


Aconite

by madrastic



Series: From the Nowhere Archives [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Aromantic, Blood and Gore, Childhood Trauma, Dragons, Eventual Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, Fantasy, Fluff, Human/Monster Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Interspecies Romance, It gets cute i promise, Lesbian Character, M/M, Magic, Multi, Non-Human Genitalia, Nonbinary Character, Original Character(s), Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamorous Character, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Slow Burn, Smut, Whump, Xenophilia, fae fuckery, squishy half-elves, this is heal from our traumas squad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:54:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 35
Words: 107,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21825511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madrastic/pseuds/madrastic
Summary: Sometimes, summoning a fae to be your patron isn't a good idea. Meet Hollyhock. He isn't known for his good ideas. This particular clever plan lands him in the medical ward of an unlicensed doctor in the middle of the woods, living with a politically minded half-orc woman with big plans for the kingdom. Why take a three-month road trip to the capital? Why not! Hell, might as well pick up a lost dragon diplomat on the way there! What could possibly go wrong?[Book 1] |Book 2
Relationships: Original Male Character(s)/Original Non-Binary Character(s), Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: From the Nowhere Archives [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1633051
Comments: 50
Kudos: 43





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi folks! If you're reading this: welcome to Aconite! This is a full-length novel that I've written (yes, the first draft is completely done)! What you see here is the first edit (bc why tf not, it's a fun story), and i 100% take constructive criticism. tentative update schedule is a chapter a week, but if i have to cut that down then sorry folks
> 
> I do hope yall enjoy, because it was a hell of a time to write it. Yes, there's going to be sex in this, more sex than gore, if anyone's worried about that. I've tagged what needs to be tagged, but if there's something someone needs, then shoot me a comment and I'll get right on it, warnings are at the top of every chapter. Dead Dove Do Not Eat, my dudes, and dl;dr
> 
> Warnings for this chapter:  
> Implied/Referenced Self-Harm (blink and you'll miss it)  
> Gore  
> Eye Gore  
> Eldritch Fuckery

Hollyhock’s breath came in pants as he flung himself over roots and rocks. The undergrowth clawed at his legs with insistent fingers, contaminated by tendrils of vibrant green magic, spilling out behind him, more than eager to swallow him whole. A vine tore itself from its tree, hooking into him with furious roots, hauling him back into the tree. Hollyhock’s fingers scrabbled at the plant life winding its way around him ineffectually, only giving the thinner, more dexterous plants a better grip on him.

It was the brambles that got him, that dragged Holly to the ground by his wrists digging in with unfeeling thorns. Blood poured from cuts as they tightened against his struggles. Blinking tears and panic out of his eyes, Hollyhock could see a figure ( _ the _ figure, the only figure that mattered), placid and calm. It neither walked nor ran, no. It floated along over the forest floor, the seething mass of furious chlorophyll that made up the ground.

It was crowned with glowing green flowers, seeming to grow out of its head, and the same light filled cracks in the earth, infecting the plant life around it like a fire, radiating out from where its feet should have touched the ground, boiling through the tangle of greenery like a lightning strike.

Oh gods, he was so, so fucked.

The brambles around his wrists were shackles, adding new scars to those already there. His arms were pulled into straight lines, bordering on dislocation. Hollyhock hoped that the crack he heard was just his shoulders and not an indication of any further damage. Holly didn’t want to die like this. Gods, he  _ really _ didn’t want to die like this.

He found his words, trying for an air of calm and easy.

“Hey now, hey,” Holly hated the tremble that had made a nest in his throat and refused to leave, constricting his lungs and shaking his voice like a branch in a storm. “There’s no need to be that way.”

That was a mistake. Or, well, kind of. It just sped up the inevitable, really. The figure, the fae, stopped in its path, rotating its entire body in his direction. His blood ran cold. The smell of ozone and bitter herbs filled the air until it was the only thing Hollyhock could smell, until it was intolerable.

Salt stung his eyes (when had he started crying?) as it dropped to one knee on the ground, looking at him. The leaves of its crown moved aside to reveal a mask for a face. Hollyhock got a good, hard look at it, with how close it was to him.

It was wood (not that Holly knew much about wood) but it was still alive, stained and infested with bright, lime-colored veins. The carving itself was minimalist, with the eyes simply being hollows, cleanly hacked into the wood. The impression was of a cold, empty stare. There was nothing humanoid about it, no emotion, no empathy, no pity.

His breath caught in his throat as the mask split open into three tooth-lined parts, a face behind it. It was maddening. It was otherworldly. It was beautiful. It was hideous. A high keening shattered the silence as a million, million, million eyes bored into his, an infinite infinity of mouths laughed, speaking directly into him, voices straining against the measly confines of his mind, nearly detonating his skull at the impact.

**Oh, what a fragile thing you are, Little One.**

Its words filled Hollyhock’s mouth with the taste of copper and nausea, emerald and amber, locked in an eternal dance, a glimmering cacophony. He saw stars and his vision blurred. He was going to throw up. His stomach did flips in his abdomen as the keening burned itself out into a hoarse rasp. It was him, Holly could feel that now, his throat running out of air and will, screaming itself into little shreds, flapping in the wind.

A seven-fingered hand with skin like the finest of woods reached out, brushing the black strands of his hair out of his face. The gesture would have been something close enough to loving, had this creature had the capacity to feel that emotion. It pressed its palm into the right side of his face, and Holly’s skin exploded in burning, all-consuming pain.

**So frail, so young, you are.**

A thumb wiped away a tear, and a stinging blackness entered his right eye, threatening his vision.

**Your call was so pleasing, Little One.**

He regretted everything in his life. As the brambles dug in ever harder, a broken whimper buried itself midway up Holly’s neck.

**I accept your offer.**

Hollyhock was going to pass out. Why did he think this was a good idea? Why did he think at all?

**I will make you mine.**

It  _ grinned _ , primal and predatory, mouths stretched open impossibly wide, teeth impossibly numerous, impossibly sharp. Hollyhock jerked at the restraints, trying to scream again, finding only a hoarse whisper in his throat.

**I will give you my voice.**

His skin tore and blood dripped on the ground, and all Hollyhock could think of was the knife and the razor blades and how fitting, how  _ fitting _ it was to die like this. The fae moved with him despite Holly’s best efforts, thumb reaching into his right eye and  _ taking _ . The vision in that eye winked out, fading back in, swimming in a murky, green universe filled with distortions and strings, skittering around, taking everything in against his will.

Hollyhock screamed and screamed and screamed until his lungs gave out, and the fae stepped back, rising, watching his energy fade, his will wane. His head lolled against his chest like Holly was a baby, unable to muster the strength to keep it up. His form was unresponsive, something dripping from his face (blood? Tears? A mixture of the two? He sure didn’t fucking know). He was too tired, too agonized, too disjointed to do anything but lie there and take whatever was thrown at him. Blissful black slowly overtook Hollyhock, and the brambles released their iron grip on him, letting him fall to the ground under his own weight.

He came to like that, breath staggering out of him in harsh, staccato bursts, eyes refusing to focus, stinging with gods knew what. Loose bramble loops curled around Holly’s wrists like delicate bracelets, dried blood pooled out on the forest floor, smeared all over his skin. Where was his jacket? Where was his… his… his…

Everything ached. Holly’s head pounded with every heartbeat. The taste of bitter leaves and metal coated his tongue like a film. Lifting his body from the ground had never been such a daunting, inconceivable ordeal, but his limbs felt like lead, despite the hollow feeling nuzzled up in his chest.

Even still, Hollyhock mustered up enough energy to prop himself up onto his elbows, hair falling loose around his face like a curtain. His vision stuttered and swam like a film reel, burning apart in a projector, even though he was nowhere near as expensive as that new technology, nowhere near as valuable. It would take half as much money to fix him, that’s what he thought, at least. A new wave of nausea teased Hollyhock, forcing spasms through his body as he fought to keep the contents of his insides private.

It was too loud. It was far too loud. It needed to stop. The world needed to stop. He needed silence. He needed silence. He needed  **_silence._ ** Everything was just so much, that was the only thought in Holly’s head as he squeezed his eyes closed as tight as he could, it was bouncing around the inside of Holly’s head like it had a vendetta against him. His pulse rushed in his hears like a torrent, and his limbs gave out, the world returning in all its noise and glory as his body thumped into the ground, jarring his screaming ribs.

There were footfalls from behind him, slow and hesitant, careful around the new growth. Holly lay still. He didn’t have the energy to give half a fuck. What must he look like, a broken half-elf, hardly conscious, in the center of all of this magical desolation. Maybe whoever it was would just let him lay here, bleed out, or wake up a different person, mind corrupted by unknowable magic.

They came closer still, and a woman’s voice rang out through the clearing. “Hey! Are you alive?”

Her words echoed over the all-encompassing beat of Hollyhock’s heart in his ears. She sounded strong and healthy. There was a rustling of clothing, but Holly didn’t bother moving, only present enough to breathe shallowly. Hands checked his pulse.

“Can you hear me?”

She shifted him, a groan slipping out of his mouth. She picked Holly up like he weighed nothing, and his cheek rested against a leather breastplate. She was strong as fuck. Braving the light and color, he cracked his eyes open, sneaking a glance at the face of his rescuer.

She might not have been pretty, not by Elven standards, but that didn’t really mean anything out here. Her skin was a nice shade of green, and she was tall, built like a brick shithouse. Her bottom canines poked out of her bottom lip as she chewed it, but it looked nice when she did so...

Her hair was blonde, shaved on the sides with a short fringe, and her eyes were grey enough that lesser elves would kill for them. She was captivating, even with the purple string that floated so daintily around her neck like the loosest noose, trailing off westward into infinity.

“Do you have a name?” She was quiet as she saw him looking, like she was talking to a child.

He didn’t care.

“Hollyhock.” He managed to slur out.

It sounded like he had been dragged across the kingdom and back, from the mountains to the coast, and returned home hanging off the back of a chariot pulled by wild dogs. Fuck, though, the fact that he could speak alone was a blessing, and he wasn’t going to knock that.

“That’s a pretty name.” she soothed. “Mine’s Aidia.”

Aidia. Elven, he was pretty sure. Or some kind of bastardized Elven. That was a thought for later, though, after a rest. Oh, that was a nice thought, a rest. He wanted that more than anything, sleeping. Hollyhock’s breath slowed, chest able to rise and fall without the weight of his body, and his thoughts looped in lazy circles as Aidia walked, getting lost down the corridors of Holly’s mind. How the fuck was he going to get out of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> liked the story? [leave a tip!](https://ko-fi.com/madlysacrosanct)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well _someone_ has to drag Hollyhock's carcass back to civilization, might as well get him patched up while Aidia's at it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, the next chapter! I'm going to be updating on fridays before midnight, so keep an eye out for that! Just wanted to say a special thanks to my editor (and darling fiance) blue_stars_above for all the help he's given me so far! happy shabbat yall
> 
> Chapter Warnings:  
> None (but lmk if yall need smth!)

He looked half dead. Maybe even three-fourths dead, if she had to be honest. Aidia didn’t need to know much about medicine to know that. Cuts lined every patch of exposed skin, some deep enough to be concerning. That didn’t hold a candle to his face, though. There was a massive burn stretching from just underneath his eyebrow to his cheekbone. The skin around it was agitated and red, but, instead of the scarlet of fresh blood, the burn itself was green. It was weird.

His head bounced against her chest, eyes closed, the palest skin she had ever seen. It was  _ sickly _ , is this what he  _ always _ looked like? Creator, Aidia just wanted to feed him, get some actual meat on his bones along with whatever lean muscle he’d managed to put on. It just wasn’t healthy. He must have been, what, seventeen? She might not have been a good judge of age (never mind judging age with half-elves), but he looked young, especially all fucked up like this.

His clothes hung on him, a brown button up (it didn’t look like a color he’d like, from what half-lucid gleanings she had managed to gain as to his personality) that was far too big on him, and denim pants that had been rolled up at the ankles to fit him. His jacket (a pretty black thing that looked like it was supposed to be oversized) floated half-off of his shoulders. His pack was currently slung over her shoulder, light enough to be concerning. From what Aidia could tell, it didn’t have nearly enoughto be functional.

Hollyhock, that was his name, if she remembered correctly. It was a bit odd that he be named in the human fashion, but who was she to talk, maybe he was raised by his human family. Names aside, he was was almost certainly a magic-user, though. People didn’t just find themselves at the center of a circle of magical desolation relatively unharmed (and considering the stories she’d heard, this was very relatively unharmed) without being a magic-user.

Couldn’t be a wizard, though. For one thing, Hollyhock was far too young. He  _ definitely _ hadn’t completed a degree course with the Academy of Magics in the capital, Aidia was rather confident that they didn’t even consider anyone below the age of twenty.

It was the summoning circle that hand been burned into the ground around him, though, that had explained what the fuck was happening. This idiot had summoned a fae. Creator and Destroyer be damned to suffering and back, this  _ idiot _ summoned a fucking  _ fae _ . Who did that? In the middle of occupied land? What, if anything, about that idea had sounded good to Hollyhock?

She might not have been well-versed in the arts of magic and science, but even  _ she _ knew that punching a hole in reality and summoning  _ anything _ was a horrible idea,  _ especially _ if that something was a random fae to pact with. Fuck, this half-elf was an  _ idiot _ , and now, people were dead because of him.

Aidia had been drawn to town that day not because of some overwhelming desire for human contact before she left on her merry way, ever eastward, no. She was out of fabric and needed to make a new set of bandages for her housemate after they had used up the last of theirs to keep a man from bleeding out. The man was fine, well, had been fine until today. Aidia had also heard that there was a wizard in town, and she might as well have checked it out (it had been Albazar, that old bastard, fuck his grave).

It was the screams that made her turn around as she was heading back. The screams, sudden depressurization, and smell of metal and bitter herbs in the air. Aidia had been out of range, thank the Creator, but, as she entered, she could see vines and undergrowth moving of their own volition, seeking out people to ensnare. It was horrifying. She was going to be running from vines in her nightmares for the next month at  _ least _ .

It wasn’t that all fae were terrifying demon creatures, Aidia had to give  _ that _ to them, it was just that fae that had the capacity and the desire to cross through a tear like this and pact with someone from this plane tended to be a little less… stable… Aidia was going to go with stable, than most other things. And Hollyhock had, in an act of supreme idiocy and hubris, handed the entire town (along with himself) a rope to hang themselves with, along with a tree that he had so graciously grown for them. There must have been thirty families in that town at the minimum, Aidia could think of that many family names off of the top of her head.

Creator, Aidia was too kind a person. Why was she even taking this veritable angel of death with her, into her home, in search of medical treatment? Guilt? Pity? He didn’t even live in the town he had destroyed, there was no reason at all for her to be giving him this mercy of mercies, placing him in the care of the most capable medical professional she had the pleasure of knowing. Oh, Marsh would  _ not _ be happy either at this news or this new patient, probably both. Maybe Aidia would be able to ply them with the chance to study the magical burns up close.

Perhaps the inherent goodness of her action, bringing a hurt person to care, would balance out the score the universe was keeping with her, even just a pebble on her side of the scale. She needed another stroke against her like she needed a third hand grafted onto her, that is, not at all. From what she could see, Aidia wasn’t sure if her plans would put her in her Creator’s graces, but She had made Aidia, and Aidia would do what she must, and that was all she wished to think on the topic.

Burdened with the dead weight of one Hollyhock (so, what, one hundred and forty pounds?), it took her half an hour to reach home. They passed out of the radius of destruction in the first fifteen minutes, and the hypergrowth was (blessedly) inert. The roots that had snarled up in the path were only as malicious as they had always been, and the vines that had dragged themselves across the dirt didn’t care about the two of them passing by. Aidia wasn’t winded by the end of it, it would take a lot more than a frail half-elf, two light packs, and a walk along a dirt road to actually start affecting her, but she was annoyed at the world and that, if anything, was more important.

As Aidia passed through the gates, she saw the curtains still drawn, though a light was on. The house was a small, single-story affair with a pretty little front yard, closed off by gates. She was more than familiar with the backyard garden, though Marsh was responsible for most of the food grown. The beams of the house were made of a sturdy oak wood, and the walls and panels were painted a pretty light blue, the white shutters drawn against the afternoon sun.

She knew full well that the door was unlocked, but she knocked with the toe of her boot before readjusting Hollyhock (who hadn’t stirred during the whole journey and, if not for the steady rise and fall of his chest, she would have thought had long since died) in her arms.

A disgruntled Humanish person opened the door, their face the picture next to the definition of ‘grumpy’ in the dictionary.

“Who’s that.” They growled out. Aw, they must have just woken up.

“It’s Hollyhock.” Aidia replied unhelpfully.

“Doesn’t look like hollyhock.”

Aidia shrugged. “Must be a wild variety.”

“Why are you doing this to me.” They pushed their copper hair out of their face.

“Please, Marsh honey, just help out?” Aidia gave them her most sympathetic look. “He’s hurt rather badly, and I didn’t carry him for half an hour just so you could let him die.”

Marsh moved aside with a dramatic sigh, letting her into the house. “Fine. Put him on the cot.”

Aidia beamed at them and obliged, walking though the door and into the common area. Marsh closed the door behind her, and she carried Hollyhock past the open dividing curtain that Marsh had set up between the living area (a common room and a kitchen, a hallway leading to the two bedrooms and a bathroom off to the side) and into the medical area (which had most likely been a dining room before Marsh got to it). Setting Hollyhock down on a free cot, she took off her shoes and washed her hands in the kitchen sink, while Marsh cleaned up in the bathroom.

“Aidia?” They called out as they exited.

“Mmh?”

They peeked their head around the corner and started towards the medical area. “Could you boil some of the bandages? I don’t want to give him an infection on top of everything else.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” Aidia blew them a kiss, and they ducked in, pulling the curtain closed behind them.

Taking a large pot from the cabinet, Aidia filled it to about a third of the way up with water, lighting the stove and waiting for it to come to a boil. As it warmed, she took a wire mesh from one of the drawers, one with handles to go over the lip of the pot and prevent it from slipping. ‘Boiling’ the bandages, in this case, meant steaming them. Couldn’t patch a wound with soggy cloth, that was a recipe for infection.

It took a bit, and, in that time, Aidia elected to sort out the mess that was being wrought on the dining table. How Marsh could make such a mess on a small, circular wooden table, she couldn’t begin to comprehend. There were coffee stains. Marsh didn’t even  _ drink _ coffee. There wasn’t coffee in the  _ house _ . In a similar vein, Aidia was rather sure they didn’t own the (now) empty wine bottle planted on top of a precariously stacked pile of books (oh Creator, glass shards were  _ not _ a good idea in this house), and there hadn’t been anyone in recently that would have gifted it to them.

The books went on the counter, and Aidia had to wonder where Marsh found the time to read them all. They were all packed with their small, vaguely legible script, taking notes and making commentary on everything in them. So, notes and commentary on anatomical structures, diseases, and medical care. Marsh was a shitty midwife, though. It was recommended that people go to someone else. Anyone else. Marsh was a  _ shitty _ midwife.

They re-emerged just as the bandages she had set out cooled, taking it with them with a bounce in their step. Aidia had to smile at that, this little Humanish person, just a few inches over five feet tall, barely reaching her shoulder. They were so serious, face stoic, but Aidia could see the excitement gleaming in their eyes, the anticipation in the quick bounce of their step. Hollyhock may have been an idiot, summoning in the middle of nowhere, but he wasn’t going to be dying from his injuries, that was for sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks, i have a tumblr! https://madrastique.tumblr.com/  
> liked the story? leave a comment


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Local half-elf is slightly less fucked up than he should be, more news at 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the first Marsh perspective chap! we love this lil socially illiterate babie <3 also, heads up, ch4 is going to be stupid long, but the plot's going to be kicking, sooo
> 
> Chapter Warnings:  
> Self Harm Ref (blink and you'll miss it)  
> Descriptions of Wounds and Med Care  
> Burns (description of wound)  
> Mild Eye Horror (description of wound)

It really wasn’t the most complicated case Marsh had seen. If anything, it was relatively simple. The half-elf, Aidia had mentioned that his name was Hollyhock, was only suffering from a few deep scratches and an assortment of bruises, at least physically. The real damage was magical. He’d been burned, and pretty badly at that.

Where his right eye had been, that’s where it was the worst. What was left could, arguably, be called an eye. It was filled with a murky, green liquid. Marsh couldn’t even make out the pupil or the iris in all of the fluid. They didn’t know  _ what _ to do with that, if anything, and they sure as shit weren’t about to start cutting things out of this man.

The man in question, though, was unresponsive to just about everything. He didn’t stir as Marsh stripped him out of his sap-and-blood stained clothes, hauling him into the bathroom. They passed Aidia in the kitchen with a nod, not wanting to hear about how cute they looked, carrying a man a full five inches taller than them bridal style. At least the two of them would be eating stew for dinner, from the smell of what she was cooking up.

They placed him in the bathtub, starting on running the bath, including some antiseptic salts and potions. It took a moment to get him cleaned up, and they took that time to clean out the worst of his wounds. Marsh kept the bath quick, it would be a shitshow to let Hollyhock drown before he could answer a few questions, and dried him off quickly. They patched up the cuts along his torso, and dressed him in a clean, light green nightgown.

Hollyhock proceeded to be lugged back to the cot and gently set down. Marsh pulled up a chair and a roll of bandages, ready to start the bulk of the process. Marsh had time to take him in, dabbing ointment onto the major cuts before wrapping them up.

He was young, with shoulder-length black hair. It looked nice, like he’d been actually caring for it and not running around, summoning random fae. His skin was very pale though, far too pale to be natural. It was Marsh’s medical decision that this man needed to eat more. His hands were also incredibly delicate, Marsh noted as they wrapped gauze around the little cuts lining their fingers. They were probably the slenderest hands they’d ever seen, even on a half-elf. Damn. How did he not break his fingers every time he picked something up.

They kicked at the air under their chair, and, as Aidia started singing a work song in the kitchen, they adjusted to kick against their chair leg to the beat. They were going to be on Hollyhock’s hands for a while, the cuts had done a lot of damage there. The surface had been fucked to the stars and back, all soft flesh and tendons. It looked like someone had taken a knife to them, even underneath all the fresh cuts.

They stayed like that for a while, Marsh weaving a new skin out of white cloth like they had been born to do it, wrap over wrap, fabric over fabric over flesh. Hollyhock didn’t really  _ look _ like a half-elf, now that Marsh was getting a good, close look at him. Maybe they just weren’t familiar with the kind of elf he’d been crossed with, but he didn’t look like the people they knew back home, especially not their parents.

He was too thin, like he wasn’t able to gain weight. Hollyhock’s limbs were long, too, longer than Marsh would’ve expected. The man was basically half leg. His teeth were also sharp, canines just a smidge larger than the norm. Maybe he was Humanish and just looked uncannily like a half-elf, it wasn’t like Marsh was going to judge.

The slash mark scars on his thighs, though? That was a different issue. No, they weren’t fresh, and no, it wasn’t Marsh’s problem, but they made a note to remove all of the sharps from the room, just in case. The last thing they wanted was to be scrubbing blood out of the floor  _ again _ with a panic and pain-fueled magicked-up half-elf. That was not how they wanted to spend their evening.

They finished up with the bandages, tucking the excess away in a corner desk. Scanning across the top of it, yeah, those scalpels had to be out of the room. From the same desk, though, Marsh seized a dark-colored bottle. This should do something for the magical burns.

They poured a few drops onto their thumb and bent over Hollyhock’s face, ignoring the copper strands that fell into their face. They smeared the oil down, from the top of Hollyhock’s forehead to the tip of his nose, swiping it along his lower lip. It shimmered slightly in the setting sunlight, blue speckles dancing along the length of the smudge.

Marsh wiped their hands and put the bottle away. They grabbed a tray, setting the scalpels onto it and bringing it out into the kitchen. Aidia wasn’t quite finished with dinner, but they could see that they were going to be eating soon. Marsh set the tray on the counter, Aidia glancing at it out of the corner of her eye.

“What’s all that for?” She asked.

Marsh shrugged. “Just making sure the patient doesn’t get a few ideas.”

Aidia raised an eyebrow at them but went along with it. “Food’s ready soon.”

“Okay, thank you.”

They walked back into the medical area and picked a blanket up. Crossing Hollyhock’s arms over his chest, they draped the light blue blanket over him. As they left, Marsh closed the curtain for privacy. There was nothing Aidia and them could do now besides wait for Hollyhock to wake up. He just needed to sleep it off and would probably feel better when he woke up, once he got past the confusion of being in an unfamiliar place.

Marsh took a seat at the table that took up the center of the common room, picking up a thick, well-worn medical textbook from where Aidia had moved it earlier, opening it up to the page they’d bookmarked with a pen previously. The occurrence of asthma in various species. That could wait for later. Flipping to the ‘magical burns’ section, they began to write extra notes into the margins, scribbling about things that they’d experienced firsthand.

Aidia chuckled at that, setting down a bowl of food in front of them. “Will you ever get tired of that? Of anatomy and burns and illnesses and the like?”

“Nope, never.” They didn’t bother to look up.

“Never?” She set down her own plate, and Marsh could smell the rabbit stew over rice. “Not even when you finish the book?”

Marsh drew up a spoonful of stew, almost automatically. They spoke around a mouthful. “I’ll never finish.”

Aidia swallowed her food pointedly at them. “Don’t talk with a full mouth, you’ll choke to death, and I’ll be sad.”

“Uh-huh.” Replied Marsh, irreverently talking with a full mouth.

“So, what do you mean by you’ll never finish the book?”

They glanced up at her, finishing the sentence they were writing. “It’s always got more things in it.”

“Yes, I think that’s usually the nature with chapter books, just one part after the other.”

Marsh shook their head. “No, not like that. It adds more to itself. Sometimes it’s my notes, sometimes it’s other things that I didn’t write. It’s always in type though, like the book was printed with it.” They shrugged. “Don’t know why or how, but useful, I guess.”

Aidia tilted her head, taking another bite of food. “That’s odd. I might not be the local book expert, but I’m not sure if that’s how it’s supposed to go.”

“I don’t mind it. More things to learn.”

“It’s still a bit weird. Is it the same one you got as payment for treating that merchant that passed through a month ago?”

Marsh stirred their half-full bowl, snagging a chunk of potato. “The one from the far north? With the white hair?”

“Lots of people come through with white hair.” Aidia took a sip of water.

“Not like that. It glowed.”

“It  _ was _ pretty. Do you think it’s a common thing up there?”

“From what I’ve read, I don’t know. But yeah, the book’s from xer. Definitely worth the splint and pain meds.” Marsh took another spoonful, chewing on the wooden spoon. “You think anyone in town survived?”

“Doubtful.” Marsh could see Aidia seek meaning in the swirling of the stew, looking for omens in the chunks of rabbit and prophecies in the slices of carrot. “The growth was rather extensive.”

They were quiet for a moment, Marsh placing their spoon down into their stew. “Sorry. I know you liked it a lot.”

“It’s not your fault.” She smiled up at them. “It’s not the idiot in the cot’s fault either, not entirely. “Fae can be heartless bastards.”

“I thought those were the court elves.”

“Those too.” She perked up. “Say, did you hear what the Queen did?”

Marsh raised an eyebrow at her. “You know I didn’t.”

“She extended inheritance rights to children born out of wedlock!” There was outrage in her tone, not that Marsh knew why.

Marsh sipped their water. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Yes!” She ate a spoonful angrily. “That’s just it! She’s using this to get people’s love and trust!”

“Hasn’t she been working on being better than Essren—” Marsh took a second to flip off the sky, “the bastard, and trying to be more accommodating and all that shit. Wait. Weren’t  _ you _ born out of wedlock?”

“Well yes, but—”

Marsh cut her off, scooping up some more soup. “Wouldn’t that mean you’d inherit your father’s estate or whatever? Also, this is really good stew, what’d you put in it?”

Aidia froze, eyes distant, as if coming to the grandest realization of her lifetime. “Rabbit, some carrots, potatoes, I used a beef stock, some herbs to taste.”

“You’re a really good cook.”

“Thanks.” She was distant.

They ate in relative silence, not that Marsh minded, Aidia, lost in sudden, wondrous thought, and Marsh nose deep in their book. They read happily, kicking their leg against their chair scraping out the last of the stew. Aidia finished off her water and emptied her bowl. Marsh washed up, cleaning the bowls and setting them out to dry.

As the room slowly darkened, sun setting on the horizon, they checked on Hollyhock, who was still dead to the world, lying in the cot. They lit the lanterns in the common area and the fireplace, curling up squarely in front of the fire with their book. Marsh laid on their stomach, a pillow under them, bouncing their legs in the air idly.

Aidia snapped out of her reverie a little while after that, finding everything washed and put away, one Marsh yawning into their chapter about the circulatory system in dwarves. She scooped them up, ignoring their complaints, and dumped them into their bed. She took their book from their hands, setting it down on the nightstand before planting a kiss on their forehead and tucking them in.

“I’m not a baby.” They grumbled.

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m older.”

“And I’m more mature.” She blew out the light in their room, wishing them a good sleep and closing the door.

She put herself to bed shortly after, Marsh heard the door click closed. The house fell silent in fits and bursts, groans and creaks of the wood settling occasionally interrupting the night. The warmth from the hearth and the coziness of home urged Marsh into sleep as the moon began to climb high in the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks, i have a tumblr! https://madrastique.tumblr.com/  
> liked the story? leave a comment


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were cannibals. Oh gods, they were cannibals, and Hollyhock was kidnapped by them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As stated previous, this ones a bit longer! this one was pretty fun to edit, we all love our local half-elves jumping to wild conclusions! as always, thank you to my dearest fiance blue_stars_above (<3) for giving me an editing hand!
> 
> Chapter Warnings:  
> Referenced Body Horror  
> Mentions of Kid Stealing  
> Holly's Scared of Ghosts

Stumbling into consciousness, Hollyhock was greeted with the blackness behind his eyelids, and the sound of two voices arguing quietly. Underneath him was the soft fabric of a cot, strung between a sturdy wooden frame. Cotton, or linen, maybe. Worn and gentle from wash upon wash. It was surprisingly comfortable, compared to his last few ‘sleeping’ spots, but, then again, anything would seem comfortable after waking up in a patch of vines and briars, or draped over a tree branch, or tucked away into a rocky overhang. His hands tightened in the blanket that had been draped over him.

He felt better, at the very least. His head wasn’t trying to roll off his neck and leave his body to bleed out among the weeds and dirt, anymore, and the semblance of control Hollyhock had over his limbs was certainly better than the none he’d had previously. Muscles and bones had been downgraded to a tolerable, if omnipresent, ache, and he could actually hear. It was almost a shock to not be treated to the loud, continuous beat of his heart in the place of the outside world. What a bonus.

Forcing his eyes open, Hollyhock winced in the bright lantern light. As he brought a hand up to shield his face, his fingers came in contact with bandages, covering most of the right side of his face, including his eye. Prodding around with gentle fingertips, he found that the bandages covered him from just under his eyebrow to a little past his cheekbone. Huh. Alright then, he could address that at a later time.

For now, he braved the light again, and, after a moment of adjustment, was able to take in the room around him. It was small, with simple wood-paneled walls giving it a cozy atmosphere. There was enough room to fit two cots, a desk in the corner, a small cabinet, and a sink that looked like it had been a later addition to the floorplan of the house. He had been curtained off, literally, with a light blue fabric hanging where a door should have been. Some carpets had been laid down at the edge of the cots, and, as Holly sat up, the light blue blanket that had been placed over them fell around his waist.

He was still stuck on the desk, eyes glued to the myriad of devices strewn across it. Medical equipment, he was pretty sure. He hoped it was medical equipment. Leafing through his memories, Hollyhock could identify a stethoscope, a hammer, a tape measure, a wooden stick, a very sharp syringe that filled his heart with ice, a whatever-that-is-with-the-duckbill-metal-sheets (it was cold and metal and frightening), clamps and forceps and things that looked like they could crush other things.

They were cannibals. Holly had gotten himself captured by cannibals. Oh gods, he was going to die like this. He wasn’t even in his own clothes, the cannibals hadn’t afforded him the dignity, dressing him in a light green nightgown that hardly reached his mid-thigh. This didn’t even go with his complexion. He was a winter, and that _alone_ should have tipped them off to the shitty meat they’d be getting off of his bones.

Wait. Was it cannibalism if they weren’t half-elves? If they were elf or human? What about Humanish? What _were_ the rules of cannibalism, was it just a sapient species? What defined sapience? Up until fifteen years ago, Holly wouldn’t have been considered sapient, did these cannibals not know that there was a new royal family in power? What if these cannibals were from the past— _what if they were from the future. What if this was his future self come back to devour him for his stupidity._

No, that was stupid. Holly knew himself enough to know that there was exactly one pound of fat on him and he’d need to be cooked for at _minimum_ six hours. Gods. He was all gristle. His skin wouldn’t even make a good… anything… really. He had too many freckles to make something nice.

The smell of something cooking brought Hollyhock’s attention back to reality, though. And to the rumbling of his stomach. No. He wasn’t allowed to be hungry. That was the meat of sapient beings in the pot, and he sure as shit wasn’t going to become a cannibal. Nope. Not his kink.

The argument grew louder outside, and Holly’s focus snapped to it, finally rendering the words that were being exchange. A woman, her voice was familiar. He was pretty sure she was the woman, Aidia, was what his faulty memory said her name was, or Aria, or Atina, or something Elven like that. The other voice was higher, of an indeterminate gender, that Holly was pretty sure he hadn’t heard before. And the two of them were certainly having a go at it.

“Marsh, I cannot _believe_ you right now.” Aidia was pissed as fuck.

“Oh, _I’m_ sorry, Aidia,” enough snark dripped from the person Aidia had designated as Marsh that Holly briefly considered the financial opportunities present in bottling and selling it, “what do you want me to do.”

“Not be such a fool about it, how would that sound?”

“Okay, okay! You want me to magic away this shit better? Is that it? You want me to wave my hand and wizard it all away? You want me to _find_ someone that can actually cast something here in the middle of fuck-all nowhere?”

Hollyhock shifted, pulling his legs off of the edge of the bed, preparing himself to stand.

“I hate when you get like this! Don’t be heartless!”

Holly got to his feet, legs begrudgingly obeying him, but only if they could wobble like a newborn foal’s the entire time. Sure. Why the not. Might as well start the long walk to the curtain like this. He was facing his soon-to-be murderers head-on. They wanted his meat? They could fucking fight him for it, he could take them.

“There’s only so much I can fucking _do_ .” Marsh’s voice sounded out. “I can’t just _fix_ someone’s fertility issues like that!”

“You didn’t even try!” Something was set down on the table. It sounded like glass. “You just sent her off!”

There was a loaded pause. Holly was almost at the curtain. He could do this.

“Aidia. Please. Look at where we are. There’s not much in the way of _medical_ care I can give in the middle of the gods-damned _nowhere_ woods, nevermind family planning. I can do pregnancy prevention. I can do midwifery. Molly-Lynne is a forty-fucking-seven-year-old human. I can’t _make_ her a baby.”

Holly pulled open the curtain quietly, doing his very best to sneak his way out of the house. The other room was more a common area if anything. There was, in fact, a kitchen, taking up space on the far wall. A circular table was the main focus, four chairs (two currently occupied) around it and stacks of books decorating the wood. A fireplace was to his right, carpets covering wide swaths of the floorboards, and a fire roaring in the hearth. There was a hallway there that led deeper into the house, and a few doors down that led to what Holly assumed was a couple of bedrooms, a storeroom, and a bathroom. Two pots bubbled on the stove, no doubt meant for him.

At the table sat Aidia, sewing with quick, sure stitches. Gods, oh stupid, heartless gods, this was how he was going to die. He might not have gotten a good look at her while he was halfway to death’s door, but he could see her now.

To call Aidia a strong woman would border on a lie, she was stacked, physically and emotionally. She was very clearly a half-orc, even if her Elvish traits (well, probably Elvish, considering there weren’t all that many humans with pointed ears and platinum blonde hair, with traditionally Elven features that wouldn’t be mixed in a more human way when combined with an orc) tended to rise to the forefront.

Her skin was perfect, and Holly needed to know her moisturizing routine to get it that smooth. Holly was also a big fan of her clothing, a simple, light-yellow blouse with pretty ruffles along the front and pale brown slacks. She managed to make that outfit far more intimidating than it should’ve seemed. Aidia _must_ have been at least six feet tall, probably a few inches above that.

The person next to her, Marsh, presumably, dominated the room, though. They sat cross-legged on a chair, tapping the tips of their fingers along the cover of a giant book laid open in their lap. They looked pretty fucking annoyed.

Marsh was a bronze-skinned human person, or, well, on slightly closer inspection, a bronze-skinned Humanish person. Their pale blue shirt was a size too big for them, pooling around their thighs and baggy dark blue pants (cloth, they looked _very_ comfortable). Copper hair, just short of shoulder length, had been pulled back into a ponytail, but a few strands had escaped to frame their face.

Marsh really couldn’t’ve been taller than five-three, but the sheer force of their personality awakened the prey instinct in Hollyhock, and he had to wonder if this prolonged use of all of the adrenaline in his body would cause any long-term health issues or anxiety disorders.

So, this was Marsh. Terrifying.

Holly moved to take a step, and the floor betrayed him to its master without a second thought, announcing his presence with the loudest creak Holly had ever heard. He froze in place, heart forgetting to beat for a moment.

The pair immediately quieted, Aidia cutting herself off mid-word, both of their attention squarely fixed on Hollyhock. Oh gods, this was it. This was how he was brutally dismembered and eaten. Heartsease was right, he was going to die the same way as Old Man Bluebell. The distinct absence of feral dogs was a surprise, though.

Aidia smiled warmly at him, while Marsh’s expression remained at a permanent-looking scowl.

“Morning, honey. Or, well, afternoon.” Her voice was easy and calm, just like a cannibal would use to soothe their prey. “I hope we didn’t wake you.”

“You didn’t.” Fuck, why hadn’t Hollyhock thought to bring a weapon with him, how could he have been so stupid? “I just woke up on my own.” The jubilant smile and laugh at the end of his statement sounded unhinged, even to him.

Aidia’s smile became a bit more forced, but Marsh just leveled their gaze at him, taking in his every movement. Their eyes were unnervingly, impossibly golden. If Holly hadn’t known better, he would’ve called them metallic. He was genuinely worried that he might find his reflection trapped within the sheen of those irises, never to be seen again, save for wandering across mirrors of gold, eternally searching for a way out.

He was staring. He should stop staring. He stopped staring.

“I’m Hollyhock, by the way! Oh, but you can call me Holly if you want, I won’t mind!” If he related to them emotionally, maybe they wouldn’t kill him.

“Yeah, I know. Aidia told me.” Marsh turned a page in their book, not looking. “Call me Marsh. Everyone does. Or Doc Marsh.”

They looked a bit young to be a doctor, now that Holly was looking, slowly coming to what he hoped was a position that screamed ‘calm and collected’ and not the ‘gods and men above and below, I’m really going to die, huh?’ that he felt. Marsh looked eighteen or nineteen, at the oldest. Younger than Hollyhock, at least.

Aidia raised an eyebrow. “No one calls you Doc Marsh.”

“Casey Winterfell calls me Doc Marsh.”

“Casey Winterfell is six years old.”

“And two months, but it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Just because she’s dead doesn’t make her not six, Marsh.”

Marsh folded their arms across their chest. “My point stands. Anyway.” They addressed Hollyhock with a customary glare. “You’re pretty fucking lucky Aidia found you. Not much else I can do for the burns, but they should heal just fine. No nerve damage, from what I could tell, so maybe the bastard gods shone down on you or something.”

“I, um,” this was… not the conversation Holly was expecting, “thank you for helping me—wait burns?”

“Right side, from brow to cheek, magical in nature. No, I don’t know if you can see out of that eye, and I didn’t want to try anything radical because it’s an eye. Did what I could.” Marsh drew an outline of the affected area on their own face.

Aidia rose from her seat, changing the topic of conversation. “Would you like some dinner?”

This was it, this was how he died. Hollyhock’s hands balled into fists at his side. “What’s in it?”

“Some carrots, leeks, potatoes, barley, onions,” she thought for a moment, walking over to one of the pots and stirring it idly, “beef, tonight. I think. Marsh, you ate the rest of the rabbit for lunch today, right?”

Marsh nodded, nose returning to their book. “Yep. Beef tonight, rabbit yesterday. It was good.”

They…weren’t being all that threatening, and there wasn’t a specific plate for him.

“Sure,” Holly conceded. Why the fuck not, he was starving. “I’ll have some, if that’s alright.”

“Then get some. Bowls are in the cupboard, take a seat.” Marsh inclined their head in the direction of the chair next to them, grabbing a pen and starting to scribble in the margins of their book.

Maybe this _would_ be alright, that thought was tentatively allowed in Hollyhock's head. He obliged Marsh anyway, selecting a bowl from the cupboard and ladling himself out some stew while Aidia got some for Marsh and herself. She joined him soon after he sat at the table, setting a bowl down in front of Marsh and handing Hollyhock a spoon. There was silence as they all enjoyed the food, Marsh reading and Aidia writing things down in a journal she had apparently manifested out of thin air, for all Holly had noticed it.

His eyes wandered along the kitchen counter and stuttered when they saw a tray filled with scalpels and knives. In his peripheral vision, he could see Aidia watching him, tensed up, waiting for something to happen. Holly let his gaze wander past them, and she relaxed.

“Doesn’t seem sanitary.” He commented, tone carefully light.

“Hm?” Aidia tilted her head, swallowing her mouthful. She was a good fucking cook.

Holly shrugged. “Keeping all the knives and scalpels in one place like that.”

“We normally don’t.” Marsh was chewing on their spoon, already halfway done with their bowl.

“Then why are they there?”

“We don’t like to have them out with new people.” Aidia supplied. “Safety and all that. No offense, but we don’t really know you, and we just wanted to make sure everyone in the house stays safe.”

That was an acceptable answer. A bit odd, but acceptable. “None taken, is it just you and Marsh?”

She nodded. “For the moment. You happen to be their only patient. So,” she cleared her throat. “what’s your plan, Hollyhock?”

Holly quickly downed his mouthful, not expecting an interrogation so soon. “For the immediate future?”

Aidia nodded, and Marsh turned a page in their book.

“Um,” he had to think about this now, “I’m probably going to pack up and travel around, no sense in staying.”

“Where would you go?”

Where _would_ he go? “Well, I think I have a patron now, and I was apprenticed to a wizard,” that got him an interesting look from Aidia, “so I might head to the capital city, get my official paperwork and a degree so I’m not a danger to society or whatever they call it nowadays.”

“Wouldn’t be the easiest thing in the world to go about alone, isn’t it?” Was she hinting at what he thought she was hinting?

Why not play along, see what it got him. “Not the easiest, no.”

Aidia smiled pleasantly and turned to Marsh. “We could—”

“No.” Their tone was final.

“Oh, don’t be that way, you know you would like it, actually leaving the house for something.”

They scooped up another spoonful of stew. “I’m not going to the capital.”

“Why not?” Aidia swirled her spoon in her stew, resting her head on the back of her palm.

Marsh looked up, giving Aidia a steady glare. “One: it’s four months’ worth of travel. Two: we barely know Hollyhock. Three: you and I have nothing in the capital. Should I keep going?”

Aidia’s smile turned sly. “I raise you one: you like seeing new things and travelling. Two: what’s the worst that he does, die on us?” Holly abstained from comment. “Three: they have medical research in the capital that you and I both know you’d _love_ to see. And _four_ : you’ll find lots of new plant species to look up. And you can do some investigative medical research on Hollyhock. No offense.” That last part was directed to Hollyhock.

“None taken.” He gave her a friendly smile, tentatively convinced that no, he was not getting eaten tonight. Just housed by two odd folks. “It _would_ be nice to travel with a doctor, I can be a bit accident prone.” They seemed to like healing, might as well add a temptation or two.

Helped that they were cute.

Marsh was thinking, chewing on their spoon. “The libraries.”

Aidia was the demon hovering over their shoulder, whispering sweet nothings. “The libraries.”

“Fine.” They removed the spoon from their mouth, waving it at Aidia before returning to their meal. “But only if we can make stops and do actual fun shit.”

Aidia slipped Hollyhock a grin. “Sounds like a deal, then. I do hope you won’t mind us as travelling companions, though, if I could say so myself, I would call us rather good people to be on the road with.”

“Oh, not at all!” If he survived the night, then why not. And if he didn’t, it wasn’t his problem. “I love company!”

Marsh nodded at that, shifting to sit in a more normal position, kicking their legs in the air. “Wait a few days. You’re all manner of fucked up, so a rest is mandatory. Doctor’s orders.”

“Okay, would I be able to stay here? Or is there a nearby town with an inn? The one I passed through didn’t seem to have much in the way of that.” Holly took another bite of stew, and it was hot and warm and so gods-damned nutritious, if he had this cooking the whole journey, he’d walk an inch a day just to drag it out.

Aidia hissed a breath in through her teeth. “So, um, about the town… it might not exist anymore.”

“What.” It was a small town, sure, but Hollyhock was pretty sure it existed as of however long ago his perception of yesterday was.

“So, uh,” the spoon turned around and around in her hands, “the fae that you summoned kind of, well, how do I put this, killed everyone? Well, no, that’s wrong, per se. It grew them to death.”

There were chunks of ice floating through Hollyhock’s veins, frost numbing his fingertips. “What the fuck do you mean, grew them to death?”

Aidia avoided his gaze, finding solace in the roof beams, the table, the cabinets, anything that wasn’t Hollyhock. “They were turned into various types of plant life, at least, I think. Bodies into saplings, rose bushes, moss, all of that, just… well… humanoid shaped. Quite unnerving, if I may say so.”

All Hollyhock could do was stare into his stew, stomach flipping, head rushing with a million thoughts skipping off his mind like rocks off of a lake surface. This was entirely his fault. An entire town, that was what stained his hands. He hadn’t considered this, the effects of the summoning ritual. Why? Was he going to blame Albazar, that he was the shittiest mentor this side of the ocean? That Holly had followed him halfway across the province to become his apprentice? Gods, he was ashamed of himself, well and truly ashamed. He was a fucking monster.

A hand clasped over his snapped him out of his death spiral with a flinch so hard his knee rattled the table. Aidia’s thumb rubbed little, gentle circles into Hollyhock’s knuckles, a forgiving expression on her face.

“Don’t beat yourself up over this, okay?” Her voice was soft and easy, as if Hollyhock was a wild animal at risk of throwing himself off of a ravine to escape death. “I take it that you didn’t know what would happen, and you’re very clearly broken up about it, but, consider this: there’s been a rash of people going missing for the past few years, and there’s been strange creatures in the forest, and ghostly fires, and all that. If I had to be honest, the town was going to get fucked to the stars and back sooner or later.”

Hollyhock looked at her. Really looked at her. How in anything’s name could she act so calm about this. “But it was me that did it. It’s on my head and it stains my hands.”

“Yes, but it if it hadn’t been you, it would have been someone or something else. That wizard, Marsh, what was his name, Alpaca, Alabaster? It was dumb and pompous?”

Marsh flipped to the next page of their book. “The one that was stealing kids to experiment on them?”

“Yes, that one. The creepy one that flirted with me and my ex-girlfriend.”

“I think his name was Albazar.”

“Fuck.” Was the word that came out of Holly’s mouth.

Aidia gave him a sympathetic glance. “I take it you knew him?”

“He was my mentor, Aidia, I don’t think he was stealing kids.” Hollyhock let his spoon drop into the bowl that had mysteriously emptied before him.

Aidia nodded solemnly. “Right, you’re right. He was buying them. His guild tasked him with finding suitable kids to bring home and ‘train’ to be wizards. Ages six to ten, humans or elves, full-blooded only. The works.”

“What.”

“He had you out most of the day, right? To practice ‘focusing’ or whatever so that you could access the ‘magic within you’ while he went to ‘meditate’, right?”

The look on his face apparently told Aidia everything she needed to know. She couldn’t be right. Holly didn’t want her to be right. Sure, Albazar had sent him out to work on his mental energy, and sure Albazar had been a piece of work, and sure there was a subtle hint of disgust in the elf’s eyes whenever he saw Holly, but that didn’t mean he was stealing kids, even if he was always arranging travel for minors to find their way home after being orphaned or something like that.

Holly set his forehead down onto the table, running his hands through his hair. “Albazar was stealing kids.”

There was a gentle pat on the top of his head from Marsh, lightly petting his hair. “Sorry you got screwed over.”

“I was promised a spot in his guild!” He didn’t want to face his shame in front of two near strangers. “I was his apprentice!”

In between the locks of his hair that had been mussed by sleep and Marsh’s hand, he could see Aidia put her hands up. “Whatever you say, I have absolutely no desire to argue with you on that, but don’t blame me when you aren’t welcomed with open arms.”

Marsh piped up, Hollyhock and Aidia’s conversation (and minor breakdown) having evidently sufficiently distracted them from their tome. “How are we getting there? Do either of you know the way to the capital?”

Marsh’s interjection saved him from his mother incarnate. Not that his mother was dead, gods forbid. Hollyhock was pretty sure she would fistfight death itself if it made the unfortunate decision of even _trying_ to take her before her work was finished in the mortal coil.

“Highways…” Holly said, half placating himself, half coming to the realization that he had no clue.

At the same time, Aidia responded with “The cross-continental footpath…” with just as much unsurety.

Great. Same boat, same hole.

“Do you two have any maps?” Holly sat up, dislodging Marsh’s hand in the process. Tragic, they actually knew how to pet someone’s hair in a comforting way, as lacking as their bedside manner was.

“I think there’s a big one with all the thoroughfares and highways and big towns in one of the closets. I got it from a patient a few years ago, but it’s old.” Marsh tapped the edge of their bowl with their fingers. “It doesn’t show the footpath at all. Aidia, didn’t the cartographer in town have a footpath map? Giles Senior?”

Aidia fiddled with her bottom lip, staring off into space. “Now that I think about it, yes, I think he did. Tragedy he’s dead now, though.”

Hollyhock put a hand over his mouth. No. They were _not_ insinuating what he thought they were insinuating. “We are _not_ breaking into the shop and stealing the maps. No. I am _not_ helping y’all with that.”

Aidia and Marsh looked like he’d just dropped a golden goose into their arms.

“I wasn’t even thinking of that, but great idea!” Marsh smiled for the first time, and Hollyhock felt a chill run down his spine.

“That’s graverobbing!” Gods, Hollyhock wished they were cannibals.

“It’s making use of the resources available to you.” Aidia respectfully disagreed. “Alright then. It’s settled! I can take a trip into town tomorrow, pick up the maps, and overmorrow we plan our route and give Hollyhock some more time to recover!”

Hollyhock was going to die. “I hate this. I hate this so much. We’re going to get so fucking haunted.”

Marsh patted his back. “Oh, come on. How old are you?”

“Twenty.” Came the reply in a voice that had aged ten years since the beginning of dinner.

Aidia choked. “What.”

Holly’s brow furrowed in confusion, and Aidia took that as a request to explain herself.

“You look, what, eighteen?”

Holly shrugged. “I have a baby face when I shave. I’m twenty years old, twenty-one in the spring.”

Aidia laughed at that. “Creator. And we’re probably haunted already, sweetheart. You’re in the house of a doctor in the middle of the wilderness, how many people do you _think_ have died here?”

With a groan, Holly buried his face in his hands, trying to keep the thought from taking root in is mind. “Too many to count?”

“I mean, fifty-six, but I’ve been working here for a good fifteen or so years, and I’m the only medical provider in a, what, ten-mile radius or so? I see a lot of cases. Plenty dire.” Marsh helpfully filled in, scraping the bowl to get at the last of their stew.

Fifty-six ghosts potentially trapped here. Unable to leave. Hollyhock didn’t want to know this. Gods above, this was actually a nightmare. He was going to get cursed by the ghosts in both the town and the house to the high heavens and back, and there’d be nothing he could do about it here, no, he’d have to walk all the way back to the mountains to get a witch to cure him. That was the farthest from ideal that he could get. Gods, why.

They broke dinner as they all finished their food. From what Hollyhock could gather, it was Marsh’s turn to clean the dishes, and he was afforded some free time to get his things in order. Aidia handed him his pack and his clothes, mended and cleaned, and he noted that nothing had been disturbed. Huh, that was certainly nice of them to not go through his things like that.

As they all washed up for bed, Hollyhock was informed that he could sleep in Aidia’s bed or on the cot he had woken up on, Aidia waving his protests aside with a simple “I could just sleep with Marsh, it’s no problem at all!”

Yeah, no, he wasn’t going to just kick her out like that. So, there he lay, staring up at the ceiling in a completely darkened house, listening to the creaking of the cot frame as he shifted, trying to find the ideal position. Sleep eluded him.

Thoughts circled his mind like vultures, cawing out taunts of hauntings and ghosts and curses, unwilling to be silenced by internal placations that Marsh and Aidia knew what they were doing, that people didn’t believe in spirits and curses this far east, that the unresting dead didn’t do what it didn’t believe it could. Right? He hoped that was right.

Rolling over onto his side, Hollyhock swaddled himself in the blanket, pulling it up high like a shield to protect himself against the thoughts haunting him. He closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing, a slow and steady in and out. Holly counted the beats of his heart, willing himself to slowly relax.

He missed his home, the rolling foothills and burbling springs of the Northwest Territories. Hollyhock missed the small villages, interconnected by a spiderweb of unmarked and unmapped trails and passes, ones where you had to know where the roads and pathways through the lay of the land were to traverse the valleys and hills to get to your destination without the journey taking three days and costing a finger and a foot.

It was under memories of rising mountains and the wind in the trees that Hollyhock drifted off into sleep, letting his body actually rest and recuperate from whatever the last few days had been. He didn’t dream, or at least, he didn’t remember any of his dreams, but he didn’t toss and turn either. Holly simply existed in that blissful nothingness, neither haunted by nightmares nor given false hope of home. Waking up actually well rested was a plus too, when the sun glinting through the windows slashed across his eyelids and urged him back into the land of the living.

This might be okay, well and truly okay. Maybe, just maybe, this new chapter of his life wouldn’t go down in flames like he feared. Maybe, he thought over the smell of eggs being burned on the stovetop, choosing to ignore the scent of smoke and the quiet “shit” Marsh whispered into their soon-to-be meal, just maybe, he wasn’t completely screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks, i have a tumblr! https://madrastique.tumblr.com/  
> liked the story? leave a comment


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They need the maps, and the town's right there. What's the worst that can happen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we love aidia so goddamn much in this house
> 
> Chapter Warnings:  
> Implied Body Horror  
> Implied Gore  
> Magical Torture  
> Magical Mutilation  
> Mild Unreality  
> General Creepiness

Aidia wouldn’t say that she had better things to do than to go through a freshly destroyed town in search of supplies for her upcoming journey, despite her best efforts. Thus, here she was, carefully picking her way along the road, lengthening the trip into the (former) town of Shelter by an irritating amount.

It was easy at first, but so were most things. As Aidia walked, there were only a few shoots and shrubs dotting the dirt road, but, the closer she got, the denser the undergrowth became. Soon, all too soon, in her opinion, she was stepping over vines as thick around as her arm.

Everything was still. There were no sounds besides the ones she was making. No birds sang in the trees, no deer nibbled on the shrubs, no rodents scurried in the undergrowth, nothing. Just nothing, only the silence of the world around her and the crunch of dirt under her boots. The only thing that moved was the wind, shaking the leaves like a death rattle.

It was creepy. Very creepy. Aidia might not have been living here long, but she had grown accustomed to the sounds of life around her, a million minds going about their days like the cogs in a clock, ticking nature around and around, interconnected and interacting, directly or not. Aidia had gotten used to the myriad of actions that determined her day, how the caw of a bird stirred a field mouse that made a deer flinch off of its path and into her trap.

Now, though, the silence was total, like she was the only thing that was still alive and not filled to the brim with chlorophyll, cannibalized by its own environment to feed a machine that had taken up residence in the heart of the forest for only a brief flash of time. It would be a wonder if this section ever fully recovered, if the town was easily reclaimed, if the dirt paths were swallowed by the undergrowth.

She didn’t like it. Around Aidia, it felt like she was being watched, but there were no eyes. All she could see were new growths in the barks of ancient trees (older than even _her_ lineage, perhaps), knots that hadn’t existed the week before swirling into being in the blink of an eye. Did the forest behind her remain as she had left it, or was a trace of the magic still left, creeping along the vines and branches, growing the flora into new, twisted shapes?

Flowers Aidia couldn’t identify swayed in the gentle breeze, their faces blooming in colors she had only thought could grow in dreams. They seemed to shimmer, glittering in the patchy sunlight dripping down from the forest canopy. Each new shift of the leaves above set off a barrage of sparkles, embedded in the petals themselves. Aidia couldn’t even begin to guess what caused that, or what uses, if any, those flowers had, with their roots trailing along the surface of the path, either unwilling or unable to penetrate the packed earth.

Making sure none of the plants touched her skin, Aidia had slowed her pace down to an almost intolerable crawl. Her pants tucked into her knee-high boots, and gloves and a jacket in the almost-out-of-summer heat made her look like she was tearing up the poison ivy roots from the entire forest. Movement was also a precaution, Aidia kept herself going, not staying in one place for too long so as to discourage any plants that might have decided that she looked like a rather nice person to get to know better.

The half hour trek turned into an hour and a half of picking across the terrain. It was, shall she say, incredibly frustrating to see her time reduced by such a profound degree. The town was hardly three miles away, she could make that in twenty minutes on a good day, ten, if she ran. It was infuriating. Yes, there was only so much she could do, and so fast she could go if she didn’t want to be made into fertilizer. Aidia could have been wrong about the plants, they could have ended up being harmless, but, especially with fae magic, she didn’t want to touch those with a ten-foot pole, even if her life depended on it.

The town was desolate when she reached it. Nothing moved in it, not even the wind dared disturb the inner sanctum, created by the plant life overtaking the signs at the entrance and the poles that created a perimeter around the edges of the farthest buildings. It was a wall, and this was the heart of the growth, protected by ribs of bark and muscles of leaves, eternally breathing, ready for the next great crisis to threaten it. Aidia wasn’t going to be that crisis.

In the middle of the packed-dirt road, Aidia could see bodies, overgrown with all sorts of plants and trapped in their last moments. A figure covered in a thick layer of moss kneeled in the road, face a distorted mess locked in a blurry, fuzzy scream. Two others were frozen in a stride, the taller tugging on the smaller, as if running from their fate. It was a child, that made Aidia’s blood run cold. The vines that covered them bound them together, stitching into the child’s hand where they held their parent’s.

She didn’t know if it was the stillness or the unsettling scene before her, but Aidia could swear on anything offered to her that the plants were moving in a wind she couldn’t feel. It gave the illusion that the figures, the corpses, were breathing, chests rising and falling steadily, all in unison. It was a trick of the light, Aidia told herself, just a trick of the light and a creeped-out mind, nothing more.

The odd thing was, though, the footsteps. They led the way down the main path, freshly made and stepping over vines. Who had come here in the past six hours? Where were they staying, if they hadn’t been encased by the magic? How did they even know the village was here? It wasn’t like there were any towns nearby, and most people needed directions to understand the directions they had been given, not to mention that the nearest road that could accommodate carriages was at least a four-hour walk away.

There wasn’t a path of them leading into town, either, no. They just started, like someone had been placed in the middle of town by a divine hand. The print wasn’t any shoe Aidia recognized, evidently not from any cobbler in a several mile radius, maybe even as far as the shores of the Grand Lake. It was made from a uniform pressure and material, no markings on the sole, but crisp, like there was no wear at all.

A flash snatched her attention away. Aidia’s head whipped up, but there was no source to be found. The sky was cloudless and clear, and she hadn’t heard the rumbling of thunder. Any lightning would have been blocked out by the trees and the wall, even if there _were_ a cloud in the sky. A crunch of dirt notified her to activity behind some buildings.

“Hello?” Aidia called out, exposing her location. This was a risk, especially given how fresh those footprints were. “Is anyone here? I’m here to help.”

Yes, that last bit might have been a lie, but it wasn’t like it mattered much at the moment. Nothing moved, no flashes, no crunches of footsteps, except for the rippling of the figures, the synchronized ‘breathing’. Alright. This was fine. Being maybe-alone in a creepy town of living ghosts was fine. Aidia was going to be peachy-keen, just as soon as she got some maps and money from the register (it wasn’t like it was going to be used). Then she could leave and never think about this town again.

The cartographer’s storefront was along the main road, that much Aidia remembered from the few times she had visited for something or other. It was covered in new growth, weighing heavily on the awning of the roof. That would be coming down soon unless someone took care of it. Mercifully, the doorway was clear of vines, just enough room for her to pass through.

That Aidia did, maneuvering carefully around the new roots and leaves that had woven themselves into the grain of the wood that made up the house. The floor inside was a minefield, but there were enough gaps in the plant life that Aidia could pick across it if she paid attention to where she was putting her feet. A figure was completely covered in the glittering flowers she had seen outside, stirring in the unseen, unfelt breeze, even indoors.

Poor Mister Giles, he had been a good cartographer, and now he leaned, back against one of the walls where the roots had dug in to support themselves. He had been a nice man, Aidia mused as she crossed to where he had kept the maps, stored in a modified wine rack with little cubby holes. She had thought it was rather cute whenever she had the pleasure of stopping by for some conversation. After a month of errands and living with Marsh, it seemed that the entire town had known her, or, at the very least, known her face.

As she moved, she felt the prickling of eyes set the hairs on the back of her neck on fire. It intensified with every step she took, as if the brown-eyed gaze of Mister Giles, now only existing in her memories, was trying to tear Aidia apart, bone by bone. It was okay, she just had to do this quickly.

Muttering a prayer to the Creator under her breath, she let the cadence of her words afford her a modicum of peace. Aidia prayed for the resting of the souls in the town as she scanned the cubby holes, reading Mister Giles' neat print where the newly made lichens hadn’t obscured it beyond recognition.

“To our Creator, I commend you.” There, one for the cross-continental footpath. “To our Destroyer, I release you.” Checking inside the small tube (the map was roughly the length of her forearm, rolled up like that), she found no damage to the papers. “May the Destroyer bid you enter into her City of Souls.” Aidia tucked it under her arm and did the same with a map of the carriage highways and byways. “May the Creator wrap the fates of those you left tightly. May the waters of your life run clear, by the waves and wind.” She finished.

Now was the hard part. The register was right next to the figure. Creator give her strength, if he was listening. The way across was a simple dance, but the stare of the figure (in her head, it was all in her head) made her skin crawl. Opening the register and taking the coins inside, within arm’s reach of the flowers and corpse, made her stomach tighten and a simple prayer for clemency and protection whisper itself in her voice.

It didn’t stop the unseen eyes burning holes into her back as she left, just as carefully as she had come, retreating down the main street. The feeling of being watched alleviated somewhat, but, now that she was looking, only her own footprints were present in the dirt. It was as if the other person had disappeared, unstuck from reality. Whoever had been in town had never entered, never exited, and, evidently, never existed to begin with.

She made it home in record time, flying over vines and roots, breaking into a full sprint as soon as she was out of the range of effect. The quicker she put that town behind her, the better. Aidia never wanted to deal with magical fallout again, and she never would. At least, that was what she promised herself as she panted out prayers for protection, prayers to rest the souls in that town, prayers for anything she could think of, hoping that the Creator was listening to a half-orc woman spooked half out of her mind.

The door was unlocked when she got home, and Marsh was up and active. They weren’t much of a sympathetic shoulder to cry on when she rambled about how creepy the town was, but they patted her arm and listened, and that Aidia could appreciate, even if they didn’t fully understand why she had thought it so unsettling to be surrounded by corpses that felt like they were still alive and angry at her for trespassing.

Hollyhock had, evidently, elected to rest in his cot with the curtain open, limbs spilling out over the edge and black hair fanning out over his face. According to Marsh, he had felt lightheaded and exhausted in the middle of the day and had reported hearing whispers. The solution the two of them had come up with was a nap, and, considering Hollyhock had been out for the past two hours and hadn’t moved, it might have just done the trick.

There was a pot of soup cooking on the counter, and Marsh had taken the liberty of using up what was left in their stores to make some salad and a few assorted pies that the three of them were expected to eat, along with some fruits. They were right on that, Aidia hadn’t even considered the fact that whatever they had in the stores wouldn’t keep after they left. It would truly be a shame if the harvest from Marsh’s garden rotted away in the cellar, and Marsh certainly wasn’t one for wasting food.

At least there was the consolation of dinner to help take her mind off of her day, and Marsh’s ramblings on the various illnesses that they had read about helped, despite all odds, to ease her some. Marsh had a way of doing that, of distracting her from what was bothering her, talking like nothing truly horrible could happen, like nothing had happened at all.

It was interesting, but it was also nice. Their way of speaking had taken Aidia a little while to figure out, but she welcomed it in the end, the circular rambles about nothing in particular spoken in such a way as to be a stellar way to wind her thoughts down along paths that weren’t overgrown figures and half-dead things and the feeling of eyes on her back. It helped. It really did. So did the soup and Hollyhock when he stumbled out of bed, wobbly legs and sleep-addled brain ready to talk about some creatures from his dream that he had termed ‘very little sparrow-men’. Alright then, let’s hear about these sparrow-men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks, i have a tumblr! https://madrastique.tumblr.com/  
> liked the story? leave a comment


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's look over some maps and get ready to go! This should be easy and tame!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now the real fun starts!! yeehaw for a rating change
> 
> Chapter Warnings:  
> Sex  
> Like, Actual Sex  
> That's about it, really  
> They fuck in this one

Aidia’s maps were pretty helpful, especially when Marsh dug out the old one they had gotten what felt like forever and a day ago from the fabric closet. Fortunately, she had managed to snag ones that they needed, and a few of them actually had some small towns (along with the cities) labelled in tiny, pretty handwriting. Giles was a good cartographer, Marsh had to confess.

The map they had was a bit odd, though. None of the towns were labelled, and the cities were in different locations, called different things in a small, boxy print that seemed more suited to writing in an entirely alien alphabet. There were notes in the margins and along the bottom in a language that Marsh didn’t understand, interspersed with numbers and acronyms.

It still marked out the footpath in a thick, winding red line, though it didn’t have some of the branching-off points that Aidia’s did. Marsh was going to err on the side of Aidia’s, though. They at least knew for certain that it was made in the past five years, and Marsh’s looked like it was at least a century old and, considering the person they’d got it off of had claimed that it was an antique, Marsh was willing to bet that there were a few inaccuracies.

“Hey, can you check to see if there’s anything of note near where we’re heading?” Hollyhock made a few marks on the map Aidia had procured for them, circling waystations where the carriage highways interacted with the footpath.

Marsh nodded. “Sure, move your hand.”

They pushed Holly’s arm off of where he had laid it over their map, and he laughed, letting it rest in his lap. Marsh could get to work. For some reason, on the older map, there was a city in the center of the footpath, but, on Aidia’s, the marked footpath swerved to avoided it. Weird. On closer investigation, it was called ‘Ur-Dochas’, and the footnotes elaborated on that, stating ‘SF, K.H., 12-F: -3693.2231. *LVT, SFC: G, UNT: R.’

Cool. Alright. Marsh could work with that. SF could be ‘safe’, it was a common practice in the older medical textbooks to label compounds and mixtures. The numbers could be a year, though, considering they were currently in the nine thousands, Marsh could be wrong. The rest of the line eluded them, but Marsh could gather that it made sense to one J.T. that drafted the map.

Weird, but sure. Marsh could live with that. Maybe it was a zoning thing, it wasn’t like they knew much about cities anyway, and they were perfectly happy to keep it that way. Living in small towns for their entire life suited them far better than what city life seemed to be like, all bustle and noise and people rushing about, no room to breathe or be.

“So,” they started, getting Aidia and Hollyhock’s attention, “I think the best course of action it to take the footpath east, southeast. We’d hug the lowest part of the foothills around here,” Marsh outlined where the Plainlands met the very beginnings of the foothills, “but it shouldn’t be much of a problem?”

“Mm. That would take, what, three months?” Aidia glanced up doing the mental math to confirm her estimate.

Holly nodded, allowing the first nudges of a smile spread across his face. “Sounds about right.”

There was some palpable excitement about this journey, it would be Hollyhock’s first trip out of the mountains (this was really the farthest east he had been, and they could hardly be considered east of anything), and Aidia was eager to see the capital for herself. There was even excited, hopeful talk of getting a carriage during the last few stretches, they were mostly across farmland, and the footpath swerved south before branching into a length curling along the coast back to the mountains and down into the desert and another traversing the beaches and cliffs up the coast past the capital and into the north.

“What if we did some quests in the towns we stop by? It’d be a good way to get some silver, and we’ll probably be hunting and camping for a good portion of our trip, so it would add up fast?” Hollyhock volunteered, bouncing his leg and shaking the table slightly

“That’s really clever, Hollyhock.” Marsh said simply, sliding him another slice of blueberry pie. That slowed the leg bouncing some.

It was accepted, and Hollyhock’s fork was halfway up to his mouth with a thank you before he processed what Marsh had said. A faint blush dusted his cheeks, and a nervous grin made its way to his face.

“I’m really not, but thank you.” He grinned at Marsh and swallowed down his forkful before he could say anymore, gesturing at the maps they had rolled out on the table with the butt of his fork. “So, I was wondering about these stretches here.”

He outlined a segment of the footpath that was just before the Plainlands started, still in the forests where it hugged the downward curve of the foothills. More importantly, it was a segment where a carriage byway combined with the footpath. “Isn’t this segment called ‘The Highwayman’s Saddle’, you know, because it’s dangerous and there’s robbers and shit?”

“Hollyhock, who’s going to rob a half-elf, a half-orc, and a Humanish, all walking on foot. I might not be an expert, but I would go for the carriages. Those folks have far more money than the grubby travelers eating meat that they smoked themselves.” Aidia was the rational voice, spreading more strawberry jam onto her bread. Gods, they had so much fruit to eat.

Marsh nodded, spearing a cherry from the fruit salad on their fork. “And we can defend ourselves. I’m pretty good with a crossbow.”

“If I can get my hands on a rifle, I was the best shot five miles out.” Hollyhock offered. “Though with the eye,” he gestured to the eyepatch Marsh had given to him. They had found that a patch helped with migraines that came from only having the murky eye, and it had quickly become a part of Hollyhock’s wardrobe. “I might not be as good, no depth perception and all.”

Aidia nodded to the small pile of daggers. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I have a shortsword in my room, so don’t worry about that, sweetheart. Big strong Aidia can protect you, and Marsh can patch us up if things go south.”

As the two of them bantered, sharing stories and giving advice on being on the road, Marsh thought about the cross-continental footpath. It was a marvel of engineering, absolutely huge, stretching from the far side of the continent, over the mountains on the eastern border of the kingdom and winding through Dwarven lands and savannah and emptying out into the Eastern Sea, sweeping down the coast of the kingdom, down into the desert, up into the icy tundra.

The footpath was probably older than the kingdom itself, and the kingdom that came before it. There were towns along it that had been populated, probably before the dawn of time. It wasn’t anything special, really, just a dirt road that had been trod down by the footsteps of countless generations, packed so tightly that raised earthen walls had formed around it as the forest grew up around it.

But it was cemented in culture, though. Everyone knew where it was, that it could take you anywhere you wanted, if you knew how it connected into the local roads. Even the oldest songs referenced it, of lovers running away along it together, of people taking it into far-away towns, of strangers coming from cities people had only heard through legends and stories. It had always been there, and there it would stay.

No one messed with the footpath, not to expand it, not to destroy it. The Elven Queen didn’t touch it, letting those that had cared for it and walked it for millennia be its protectors. Her predecessor, bastard that he was, didn’t dare touch it either. The people would add to it, that was a given. New trails would branch off, linking cities and towns together. The trail that led to the capital was relatively new, just recently becoming a permanent fixture in the earth (though it had been there all of Marsh’s life, and probably a good century or two before that). It was the informal highway system, more effective than the official carriage highways and byways in some places.

Well, the byway system wasn’t bad, it was just… inefficient. Especially in places similar to where Marsh had grown up where there hadn’t been enough of a local population to justify carving the forest up into highways. Essren the Burner, bastard, had built them early in his reign, right when his depopulation policies had fucked the population densities and the reporting of the census, or so they’d read.

Essren was a bitch, and Marsh was happy that the current head of the royals was Queen Malaidor. Anyone who ran on a campaign of destroying anyone who wasn’t an elf was just asking to get his head chopped off. Countless people had been killed, cities and villages burned to the ground, and there were only slowly fading trails and foundations dotting the woods to remember them by, skeletons of the kingdom’s former life.

As Hollyhock finished up a pie and Aidia teased him for his taste in wine (the man mixed it with juice like a maniac, that was just _wrong_ ), all Marsh felt was excitement. Thank the gods that they didn’t have to cross the mountains, even with the passes, it would be the absolute worst, climbing all the way up and then all the way down. No. Marsh was _not_ having that.

The Plainlands were easy, no one got altitude sick on the plains, and they were flat, mostly farms and towns for miles and miles. And the Grand Lake, but they could take two weeks to walk around or take a boat across if they had enough money. When they brought this up, Aidia dismissed it.

“We’ll figure out the best course of action when we reach it, I wouldn’t worry much about it.”

She passed the remains of the fruit salad to Hollyhock, who was still, evidently, hungry, despite eating dinner, along with half of a pie (though it was mostly Marsh and Aidia sliding him more and more plates that he promptly devoured), a good third of the wine, and now, what might have been an unhealthy amount of fruit salad.

Hollyhock nodded, and his grin sat prettily on his face, just a little crooked. His right upper canine was ever so slightly chipped. It made him look cute, in Marsh’s opinion. Hollyhock was cute, and he knew it. The wine had given him a rosy flush. It was a good balance to his monochrome features (hopefully, he’d tan as they got out more, he was just so _pale_ ).

“Do you think we can see this city? Maybe on the way back?” Marsh pointed at one a little out of the way, a few miles south of the Grand Lake. “Medt-hiri Havatt? I want to know why its label reads ‘RAD, K.O. 31-G: -4565.7659.’ because that sounds cool.”

Hollyhock shrugged. “I don’t see why not. When’s the next time we’re going to be out there?”

His smile won over Aidia. “Sure, why don’t we. It might be decently interesting, given that I’ve never heard of it.”

The sparkle in Marsh’s eyes was their ‘thank you’. “So,” they tried to stay casual, it wouldn’t do to get too excited and scare Hollyhock off with the bouncing and the hand flapping that came with joy, “the footpath looks like it starts fifteen or so miles to the south, south east.”

“That’s a day’s walk or so, a little less. I did it in about five, but I didn’t break for food.” Hollyhock put that into time for them.

Aidia nodded, finishing up the wine. “And the footpath follows the Bluestone river, so we’ll have a regular source of water once we get there.”

“Food.” Marsh’s leg swung, and they took refuge in the comforting, repetitive motion. “Where are we getting food?”

Aidia’s response came just before Hollyhock’s with an “I can hunt.”

“Yeah, me too.” Hollyhock grinned at her. “Excellent season for rabbits right now.”

Her mouth split in a wide smile. “Oh, Creator, yes! I can also preserve food.”

“As can I.” Marsh picked a strawberry out of the bowl.

Holly’s fingers stole some more berries. “So can I. We can all trade off?”

“That would be lovely, actually!” Aidia positively beamed at him.

Nothing was breaking down yet, not in ways that Marsh could see, and the three of them actually seemed to be getting along. Aidia _liked_ Hollyhock, as a person. That was a good sign. Maybe this journey wouldn’t be the out of control blaze that Marsh dreaded it could become. They _were_ heading out tomorrow.

Marsh volunteered the dried, smoked, and salted food stores that they had begun building up for the winter to help tide them over as they moved. It would be a waste to leave them here, considering their trip would probably take them into the fall, and maybe even the winter, and the other two nodded eagerly, dividing the extra communal supplies amongst their packs. Hollyhock apparently had a folding cauldron that they could use to cook on the journey, and Aidia had saved some various things from her trek down from the lake to here.

They broke dinner with a plan and followed it with their various bedtime routines, now with the added bonus of packing. Marsh folded up the clothes they wanted to bring while Hollyhock cleaned the dishes and brought up the usable food from the cellar, volunteering to divvy it up into thirds, just in case they were separated. Marsh buzzed around them collecting their favorite (and most useful) medical supplies and got that into their pack.

It might have taken two hours to get it done, along with depositing their ever-expanding medical book on top of it all, but it got done, and that was all that mattered. That meant it was bath time. Nice. The bathroom was quiet, and Marsh could hear Aidia shuffling her things about in her room, most likely almost finished with her own packing. Hollyhock’s curtain was drawn, and it was silent in the medical area, but it wasn’t like he had much of a life to deconstruct, most of his things still in his pack.

As Marsh opened the bathroom door, they were greeted with a wall of warmth and steam. They quickly regretted not knocking, as the absence of a lock meant that they bore witness to a basically naked half-elf toweling himself off, just as surprised to see them as they were.

“My bad.” Marsh said, refusing to blush.

Hollyhock blinked at them, pushing his wet hair out of his face. “You’re good. I couldn’t figure out how to do the lock.” He said, just as woodenly as Marsh.

“There’s isn’t one. Should I go?” Marsh just now realized that they had closed the door behind them purely by impulse.

“I mean, if you want, I don’t really care.” Hollyhock shrugged and tied the towel around his waist, covering up somewhat. “We _are_ going to be seeing a lot of each other pretty soon, and I assume you’ve seen me naked before.”

“There was a risk of infection.” Marsh tried to insert some levity, making eye contact like they’d been taught to.

Holly’s hips canted to the side and he leaned on the counter, smile easing onto his face. “Always a fun risk.”

“Really is. Are you coming onto me?” Marsh crossed their arms amicably, slipping into a more relaxed posture.

A dozen options weighed themselves in Hollyhock’s head as he bit his bottom lip. “Do you want me to be?” Was that a hint of confusion and disbelief. Marsh was just going to ignore that.

“I wouldn’t say no, we _are_ going to be seeing a lot of each other soon.”

“Then,” Hollyhock took a step forward, snagging a tie off of the sink counter and putting his hair up in a loose bun, “consider me officially coming onto you.”

“Good to know.”

It was hot in here. The bathwater was still hot, and the residual steam was making Marsh’s clothes stick to their skin in a wholly unpleasant way. Of course they unbuttoned their shirt, what else would someone do in this situation? Hollyhock donned a grin of raw, uncut mirth (hidden behind the curtain of propriety) as he watched Marsh fumble with the little buttons. He also decided to help out, crossing over into Marsh’s personal space to rid them of the garment with steady, confident hands.

They were pretty, his hands. They weren’t the slim, bird bones of an elf, but they seemed to be just a hint too long for him, just a tad too slender for the strength those fingers held. There were little callouses along Hollyhock’s palms, but he was still quick and nimble, getting the shirt unbuttoned easily, though those fingers trailed just a moment longer at the hem. They looked nice, it was a basic fact, so Marsh stopped staring and told Holly that.

“Your hands are pretty.” They took one that had dropped off of the hem of their shirt, lacing their fingers together.

Hollyhock laughed, but it was more out of embarrassment, the blushing, hesitant laugh of someone preparing themselves for the ‘but’ at the end of a statement. “They’re really not.”

“I see.” Marsh lifted their unified hands and pressed a kiss to Holly’s knuckles (when did they start calling him ‘Holly’? Did that matter in this moment? Would he care if they called him that?). “But they really are.”

It was the cutest thing to watch the blush creep up Hollyhock’s face, pale skin turning pink just for them. If anything, now that Marsh was this close, it pricked at their mind that Holly didn’t look much like a half-elf, really. He looked like himself, comfortingly imperfect. He also blushed and stuttered his way through Marsh’s staring, avoiding their gaze with minimizers of how he ‘wasn’t much to gawk at, really’.

Marsh took the liberty of cupping his face in their hands, watching his gaze lock onto their eyes and his mouth squiggle into a hesitant smile.

“Can I kiss you?” There was breath in Marsh’s tone, like they were holding the sun in their palms.

Holly turned even redder. Adorable. Marsh could just devour him.

“Yes, please.”

He barely got the please out before Marsh’s lips were on his, a firm, gentle pressure. It was almost like Marsh was trying to kiss the self-love back into him. Holly sighed into them, relaxing enough to wrap his arms around Marsh, pulling them closer to him. For their part, they deepened the kiss, feeling the soft towel slip further down as they started to push Hollyhock backwards to the wooden tub, removing their hands to undo their belt and step out of their pants.

Hands wandered under their shirt, exploring the soft plane of their stomach and ghosting along their sides and along their spine like a prayer. The owner of such bold hands was currently making little appreciative noises into Marsh’s mouth, allowing himself to be pushed against the wall. It was Marsh that broke the kiss, running their fingertips along Hollyhock’s jaw to take in their kiss-dazed prize, one that took the breathing space as initiative to feather his lips down Marsh’s neck, settling at the junction where it met their collarbone to nibble and suck at the skin there.

“Don’t leave a hickey.” They warned, and Holly gave them a hum in response.

Marsh placed their hand on the back of Holly’s neck, twisting them around so that Marsh was against the wall instead. Hollyhock got the hint, so clever, kissing down their body to kneel between their legs. The towel slid down, and, aw, he was half hard just from that, how cute.

Nuzzling the inside of Marsh’s thigh, Holly kissed and nibbled along the sensitive skin, drawing little circles with his fingertips. Marsh would be lying If they claimed this wasn’t making them a little wet, so they didn’t, spreading their legs wider at Holly’s hint. They pushed the damp hair out of Holly’s face, and his head followed their hand, pulling off and meeting their gaze like a lost puppy with those big blue eyes.

“Do you want me to stop?” The question was hushed, as if Holly was scared of alerting the world that this was going on.

“No,” came Marsh’s hum, “I just wanted to see your pretty face again.”

The blush returned twofold, trickling down Hollyhock’s neck, but Marsh’s steady hand on the back of his head keeping his hair out of his face was all the encouragement he needed. Hollyhock leaned forward, drawing his tongue up from the bottom of Marsh’s vulva to the top so slowly that Marsh thought they were going to lose their mind by the time he finished.

The tip of his tongue ghosted along the edges of their labia, the hint of sensation against their clit. Oh, they wanted _more_. Marsh’s hand in Holly’s hair tightened, and a broken-off sound dropped out of him, his breath speeding up.

“So you like that, huh?” They just couldn’t resist teasing him, not when he looked at them with those big, round eyes.

“I might.” The smile on his face was all charm and charisma.

That got a laugh out of Marsh, one quickly turned into a sharp gasp as Hollyhock returned to his work like he was a priest at his altar. This bitch had _experience_ with this shit and, in Marsh’s opinion, it was a sin he hadn’t told them this earlier. Holly’s actions earned him a satisfying scratch up the base of his scalp, along with a gentle jostle to just the right spot Marsh wanted him to be. Holly let out a groan, and a dare to do it again.

He was still moving too slow, still teasing. Yes, it was good, but Marsh wanted _more_. So, they asked for more, pushing Holly’s head harder in between their legs like the pretty little toy he was, and they were rewarded with exactly what they wanted. The flat of Holly’s tongue dragged up along their clit, breaking into little circles, and, when he sucked lightly, Marsh was sure the choked moan that fell out of them was inhuman, tripping into an octave only dogs and certain sharp-eared elves could hear. Their breath caught in their throat as he continued, eating them out like they were the first food he’d had in decades.

“You’re so good.” It was more of a moan than a sentence, praising as much as it was warning.

Hollyhock took the praise like a drug, raising the standard he was setting himself to and raising the intensity of his movements. It drew growls out of Marsh, who bucked against Holly’s tongue and tugged on Holly’s hair, grinding out their orgasm and doing their best not to dig their nails too hard into his scalp.

As they caught their breath, Hollyhock pulled off of them, spit and slick messy on his mouth. Marsh let themselves fall down to straddle him, catching his wrist as he moved to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. Marsh’s other hand tipped his chin up, trapping him in another kiss, only breaking it to take a breath and run their hands over Holly’s chest, feeling his erection pressing against their thigh.

“Aren’t you such a good boy? Such a skilled thing.” Their voice was hushed, and they could taste themselves on his lips.

Marsh pushed down on his chest, urging him to lie back, and he did. Hollyhock was such a pretty sight, like this, hands tucked away behind his back (his own choice, Marsh had to note) and hair fanning out like a black halo, no fabric to dig through, no clothes to get in the way.

It must have been hard for him to keep still when Marsh traced a single finger up the shaft of Holly’s dick, pulling a breathy laugh out of the man. They didn’t bother with the teasing or the taunting, Hollyhock would probably kill them if they did, if the drop of precum dripping down from the head of his cock had anything to say about it.

They increased the pressure, wrapping their hand around his shaft and swiping their thumb along the slit at the head of Holly’s dick, winning the reward of a sharp hiss. One of Hollyhock’s hands snaked out from behind him to muffle his mouth. Aw, the noises were cute, but it was probably the smart thing to do. They didn’t want to think about how Aidia would tease them if (and when) she learned the two of them decided to let off some steam and fuck.

Drawing themselves back to the present, Marsh let themselves enjoy the sight below them: Hollyhock, panting and moaning through his hand, trying to keep his hips still as Marsh traced shapes around his chest while giving him _more_ with their other hand. A few fragmentary words slipped out of Holly’s mouth, and his muscles tensed, back arching as he spilled over Marsh’s hand with a muffled groan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks, i have a tumblr! https://madrastique.tumblr.com/  
> liked the story? leave a comment


	7. Interlude I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, we have intermissions, no warnings needed

Of  _ course, _ Aidia knew Marsh and Hollyhock let off steam. There was nothing quite like the emotion one felt going to the bathroom sometime around midnight to brush your teeth and wash up before bed to hear your friend half-moan “aren’t you such a good boy” through the door.

No, she wasn’t going to bring it up. It wasn’t her problem, and, as long as they didn’t strip down and start going at it in front of her, Aidia didn’t care what those two got up to in their spare time. That said, she was  _ certainly _ looking forward to teasing a certain Humanish about having a crush (jokingly, of course, Aidia was more than aware that Marsh didn’t care for  _ anyone _ that way, sexually or romantically) on a certain half-elf.


	8. Chapter 6 II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at it again with the fucking

Holly came down panting, a laugh and smile already on his face. “I guess I’m going to need another bath, huh?”

Marsh tried not to dignify that with a laugh. “Then get your scrawny ass in the tub. I’m brushing your hair.”

“Then get off, bud.” Holly stretched out under them, and his back popped all down his spine. He winced at that. “Not to sound like an old person, but I’m going to be feeling that in the morning.”

“I’ll fix it for you. I promise.”

They got off of Hollyhock before he could jokingly complain some more, and got the tub running, refilling the hot water. As they rinsed their hands off in the sink, Holly got to his feet on wobbly legs, clambering into the tub and shutting off the tap when it was filled, all long limbs and muscles. He reminded them of a whippet. A whippet with pretty eyes and soft hair that Marsh could put into nice braids, but a whippet, nonetheless.

The bath went without a hitch, Marsh brushing and braiding Holly’s hair before working out a kink in his back (which got them a bouquet of thanks), and the two of them got dressed in their bedclothes after it was finished, separating to get some rest. It didn’t take long for Marsh to get to sleep, and they woke up to eggs cooking, being greeted with a knowing look from Aidia when they wandered into the kitchen.

“What does that look even mean.” They grumbled. It was too early in the morning for this shit.

As if on cue, Hollyhock clumsily staggered out of the curtained-off medical ward, walking directly into one of the supporting beams of the house. Aidia looked to him and back to Marsh pointedly, waggling her eyebrows.

“Yeah? And?” Marsh moved to guide Holly to the table, making sure he plopped down in a chair and didn’t just fall straight down to the floor.

Hollyhock blinked in the morning light as Aidia and Marsh set up breakfast, mumbling something that might have been a greeting to both of them as Aidia set a plate of eggs in front of him, along with a knife and fork. Marsh had their food handed to them, with the implicit understanding that they were awake and wouldn’t drop it if they lost focus.

As the three of them ate, Hollyhock woke up more, joining in the conversation and politely ignoring Aidia’s cracks at the two of them, simply saying that he didn’t date. Marsh could agree with that, romance was a scam and they weren’t buying into it. They cleaned up after they finished and got ready to set out. This was the first day of the rest of their lives, and Marsh was allowed to be corny and poetic about it, it was  _ their _ internal monologue, gods damn it.

They walked for most of the day, reaching the cross-continental footpath without much trouble, and started down it. For the next few days, they passed through various towns, picking up books and supplies as they needed them (not often), and they found that they worked together quite easily. Aidia and Hollyhock also found that they shared an interest in city planning and infrastructure (so Marsh had no idea what they were talking about half of the time when they got into their deep discussions about aqueducts), and Holly had been gifted a bass by a girl who thought he was cute and wouldn’t let him leave without it “to remember her by”. No, he didn’t fuck her.

They also discovered that Hollyhock could, in fact, play it, much to his own surprise. Another surprise was that whenever he did he treated anyone around him to a glimpse of what his nightmares looked like. Marsh didn’t want to think about the implications of those vines. Okay, cool. They could work with that. There was a tentative promise made that Hollyhock would practice more and get that under control at a later date. He also cried a little bit and screamed in his sleep like he was being murdered until Marsh shook him awake, narrowly avoiding a fist to the face.

Right, okay. Marsh made a mental note for future reference, Holly was a thrasher. It wasn’t too bad, they could just wake him up whenever things got too bad, and he would fall back asleep without much trouble. No complaints from neighbors, either. The weather was still warm enough for them to sleep outside, and if they could save on inn prices, they were going to save on inn prices.

If anything, Marsh felt like there were going to be clear skies ahead. No, they weren’t going to be taking suggestions on that sentiment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks, i have a tumblr! https://madrastique.tumblr.com/  
> liked the story? leave a comment


	9. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Might as well pick up some silver in a town on the way!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god i love mab so much but rip to oracle
> 
> Chapter Warnings:  
> Magical Sickness  
> Politics  
> Marsh is a Babie

It was a gorgeous day outside. The sun shone down on the land, gleaming through the leaves on the trees, warm and happy, like the world was filled to the brim with perfection and joy. Flowers were blooming in the early fall air, ones that Aidia recognized, spreading their colorful faces to the sky. Hollyhock was anything but clumsy, dancing around the stray roots and scrappy bushes that encroached on the edge of the trail. Marsh was enjoying the warmth, tapping their fingers against the side of their thigh as they walked, talking idly to Hollyhock about the stars and geography.

Aidia was bored. Aidia was very bored. Yes, she  _ could _ bury her nose in her book that she had picked up from the previous town they had wandered through, but she had already finished it and deemed it lacking. It was an older summary of Essren the Burner’s rule, touching on his downward spiral that led to the current Elven Queen’s coup that Aidia had heard about a million times.

This author had called the last fifty years of his reign as a part of Essren’s ‘fall from grace’ (which was absolute bullshit, there were warning signs from the very first century), ending it just before Queen Malaidor’s rule. It was dry, the needless academic prose of an author desperate for a foothold in his position, a reason to pay attention to his words spun out of grammar and rhetoric intentionally designed to confuse.

This Alaithe Cairris, the name the author wrote under, also completely forgot to take into account the social consequences of Essren’s rule and decisions. He had been painted the picture of perfect evil off of his legal, economic, and political changes, and that, in Aidia’s opinion, was false. She wasn’t  _ defending _ him, Creator forbid, he could be set aflame in his own coffin and Aidia would toast bread to feed to the ducks, but his economic policy was sound.

That was a problem, nowadays. People looked back on history and saw a monster that had sentenced countless people to death for not being elves, more than happy to see other species buried up to their necks in the ground, but he had a good economic policy that ushered in a new age of wealth (for Elven families). His military was also worth studying; any force that could hold four centuries of revolt and rebellion from taking over had to be worth their salt.

It was a shame that the Elven Queen didn’t agree. No, she was unhealthily invested in scrubbing all traces of Essren from the histories. She had immediately restructured the legal code which, Aidia was forced to agree, was not a completely horrible idea and had been done with the thought of equality in mind. Of course, Aidia wasn’t going to delude herself with thinking that  _ Queen _ Malaidor actually cared about her subjects. She had just learned her public-relations lessons from her uncle-in-law, lessons that ended with a coup.

Malaidor had also done away with the military they had, bringing into place something similar to a militia, and Aidia did  _ not _ care for that. Each city and town stead was subject to scrounging up the resources for their own protection, and, in the case of emergency, officials could be brought in from the capital. Otherwise known as the other side of the kingdom.

What if a war broke out? The Elven Queen hadn’t been thinking of that when she began her campaign. It was on her head when the population was forced into hard labor or death when the kingdom was invaded, that is, if she survived long enough to see the fruits of her labor. From what Aidia could see, Queen Malaidor didn’t seem to be much the strong and steadfast type. She wouldn’t do well with the campaigns of dwarves, far off to the northwest.

Her preaching inclusion also rubbed Aidia the wrong way. All that talk of equality and opening borders reminded her of what little she had heard of happening in the Solaq, immediately after the Thornling took over, and, well, look at them now. The Solaq was on lockdown and, in Aidia’s perspective, dealing with far greater troubles and control than any of them had under Essren.

Opening the borders was an issue, though. Yes, she knew it was propaganda, but the thought of beginning diplomatic relations with nearby kingdoms and nations was horrifying to Aidia. Tales from Essren’s time flashed through her head, teachings that their neighbors were populated by cannibals and murderers and demon-children that would invade and kill everyone in sight still inhabited a dark part of her mind.

Yes, it was most likely a good sign that they were willing to speak with Queen Malaidor, especially after Essren’s reign, and it was an even better sign that the Queen was willing to create new ties and alliances, and that welcoming foreigners would make their place on the continent more secure, but it still filled Aidia with terror. It was enough that Malaidor was trying to rein in the dragons that (while technically still on the kingdom’s grounds) had been left unsupervised for an unnervingly long amount of time.

All Aidia could do was hold the Elven Queen to a high standard, unlike everyone else, the courtesans that fell over each other trying to lick her heels, drooling praise with every half-hearted, unfeeling effort to ‘rectify’ the social issues so deeply present in their society that it would take a flood to uproot them. Better than anyone, Aidia was aware that Malaidor was only trying to gain the support and acceptance of the minority populations, and such a blatant and transparent effort would  _ not _ be working on her.

A tug on her sleeve got her attention, and Hollyhock’s smiling face brought her back to reality. He jerked his head in the direction of a town they were fast approaching. It was small, but what town on the cross-continental footpath wasn’t? They were taking the footpath down to the Plainlands, for Anyone’s sake, they weren’t going to be hitting anything big until they were at  _ least _ two weeks closer to the edge of the forest. They were hardly out of the old growth of the Northwest Territories and western Centrailia, there weren’t going to be big towns on dirt paths too small for carriages. It was economically unfeasible.

“You think there’s a few quests we could pick up in there?” Hollyhock was quiet, silently nodding at some townspeople moving up the trail, carrying goods (presumably) to their homes.

Aidia shrugged “With any hope. The coin purse  _ is _ getting a bit light.” Her face split into a grin as she thought of a joke that Holly would hate. “You could always play for our dinner.”

He shuddered, lightly smacking her shoulder. “Don’t even joke about that.”

“It  _ was _ rather gory, I must admit. They did pay us to leave, though, so we might keep that in mind.”

“They probably have a quest board.” Marsh chimed into the conversation. “Every town with a three story building has a quest board.”

“That we’ve seen, so far.” Aidia qualified. They were right though, chances are there would be something that they could do. They were all getting a bit tired of bushmeat and sleeping under the stars. “It might just be a correlation, not a causation, sweetheart.” She ruffled their hair for good measure.

“I’m older than you, fuck off.” Marsh grumbled, but it was more friendly joking than bite.

As they made their way in, they continued to joke around and chat, talking about nothing in particular until they reached the center of town. There was, in fact, a quest board located right across from town hall, granting it the name Faraway. Pretty name for a pretty town, with its cute stone and wood buildings, tall town hall with stained glass windows letting light in. A lot of the glass was stained in this town, now that she noticed, blues and reds decorating the windows of buildings that were scattered around the few streets they had.

On the board, a few quests greeted the three of them. A Mister Heave had put up a request for assistance with his barn raising, and, for three silvers a person and Hollyhock assuring her that barn raising was easy and that it just needed people with strength, they found themselves for than willing to help. A local tavern had posted about needing help with a broken down wagon a few miles away that held some materials they needed for a leak in their roof for five silvers a person (Lords be damned, how wealthy was this town?). What really caught their eyes, though, was a woman going by Oracle who had offered ten gold for anyone that could help heal her sick child.

Marsh was nudged at that one, but there was no urging needed. It was  _ right _ up their alley, and they all but bounced with excitement, hands quietly fluttering in front of them.

“We should do that one first.” They looked up at Aidia and Holly with the most pleading eyes. “It’ll take the longest, probably.”

“I don’t have a problem with that.” Holly shrugged, and Marsh bounced harder, just waiting for Aidia’s acceptance or rejection.

Aidia nodded. “That’s a good point. Are we checking into the local inn, I think it’s the same as the tavern here.”

Hollyhock gave the town a cursory glance around and affirmed her suspicions with a nod. “I don’t think we should, the weather’s fine, and there’s no sign of rain tonight.”

“I’m with Holly on this one.” Marsh accepted Holly’s head pat of solidarity.

“Alright then. So we can check out this sick person, maybe help with the barn raising, and set up camp? Sound amenable to everyone?”

There were noises of assent all around, so the three of them headed off to the address listed on the notice, finding it on the very outskirts of the town. It was a small, single-story affair, done in birch wood that looked older than Hollyhock by at least a decade, though that wasn’t much of a mean feat. The dusty blue curtains looked like they had been drawn for the better part of the time that the house had been standing, and the porch was rickety at best.

Being the social butterfly, Hollyhock was assigned as the speaker in the brief glance the trio exchanged, much to his complaint. He knocked on the door, and it swung open on the second rap. The face of a woman replaced it so quickly and so close that Holly leaned back and stilled his hand in midair to avoid knocking on her forehead. The hairs on the back of Aidia’s neck rose, and she could see the flinch that Hollyhock artfully repressed, along with the jump that Marsh didn’t. 

The woman held unnaturally still, like she had been frozen in time. She was pale, unnaturally so. It looked as if all the blood had been drained from her body and replaced with spring water. Long, knotted hair, blacker than the night sky, drifted in a breeze that Aidia was sure didn’t exist. Aidia was also rather sure that the woman was wearing a wolf skin draped over her shoulders, concealing a torn and worn-out white dress that seemed as if it were to rot off of her body at any moment.

It was the woman’s eyes, though, that drew her attention. They were so red that they glowed, like someone had trapped an ever-shifting flame inside her head, and her irises were the only place where it could free itself. Her lack of pupils did nothing to aid her in the humanoid department. This woman was  _ not _ Humanish. Aidia had met a lot of Humanish people, and none of them had eyes like  _ this _ . She couldn’t even begin to guess what species would have gifted her them.

Hollyhock’s face was fixed in a pleasant smile, taking a step back to give the woman more room. “Hello, Ma’am. We’re travelers that were passing through town, and we noticed your notice on the quest board? The one about your daughter?” His tone was friendly and jovial, like he could just ignore the reek of death and rot drifting out of the door of the house.

What in the Creator and Destroyer’s sacred names had they gotten themselves into.

The woman smiled like she had read about the action in a book years ago. Only her mouth moved on her face, revealing row after row of jagged pointed teeth, springing forth from her gums in all directions. She looked like a weapon, screamed the inside of Aidia’s head, the part that was still afraid of particularly large bears and people with more than six children. This woman was a predator.

“I comprehend. I am called Oracle. Come inside. My charge is here.” When she spoke, her voice sounded wrong, like it was a mask that she had shoved over her true voice, one that she had stolen from some poor, unsuspecting fool.

Oracle abruptly turned around, walking into the house like she was a marionette. An expertly puppeteered marionette, but a marionette nonetheless, dancing about the world on strings governed by some unseen hand. They were expected to follow, it seemed, and follow they did, Holly sending them the most expressive ‘help me’ eyes Aidia had ever seen.

The inside of the house was cluttered, dark, and musty. The smell of death and dying seeped into every part of the house, it was strong enough that Aida could just about taste it on her tongue. It was as if the air was passing through a stained glass window, but instead of colorful light, it emerged reeking of rot and the end of life.

The floorboards creaked under their weight, threatening to give way, and the corridors were narrow, the sides stacked up with all sorts of paraphernalia, items that Aidia couldn’t even begin to recognize. She was sure that some of the  _ materials _ were unknown to her, strange metals and gems glinting in the gloom at them.

A painting half-destroyed by mold and damp leaned against a wall, the faces of two adults smiling placidly out at the viewer, adorned with rich fur-lined cloaks and huge, sweeping wings behind them while two others, looking much younger (late teens, early twenties, if Aidia had to guess) peered out at the artist on either side of their presumed parents. A baby was cradled in the mother’s arms, pale yellow hair and golden eyes, swaddled in a blanket of red and gold.

But snooping was rude, and Aidia turned her attention elsewhere, to the walls. They were done up in paisley pink wallpaper, patches of other, equally faded wallpaper shoring up the edges where entire chunks had shucked off of the walls, rejected by the house. The house, evidently, liked pink. With every step, the carpet kicked up more dust, though Oracle’s steps glided along without error, as if she had never touched the floor to begin with, despite Aidia seeing her shoes descend and touch the floor.

Aidia hated it in here. Marsh and Hollyhock also hated it in here, judging from how tightly they held onto each other. Hollyhock reached back and pulled Aidia’s hand into his, completing the chain. She gave his fingers a supportive squeeze, one that he returned, as Oracle led them to the bedroom, curtains drawn against the world, lit lamps lining every available part of the wall.

Despite the half-million candles burning on the wall, it was cold in the room. Aidia could feel a shiver run through her.

The room was small, the walls neater than the rest of the house, done up in a light orange that could have been considered pretty years and years ago, decorated with a repeating motif of butterflies. A small, circular carpet took up space on the hardwood floors, and a bed filled up the center of the room, covered with dark blue sheets.

In the bed, though, was another story. There was a woman, just older than Aidia, maybe a year or two, lying in it. Her eyes didn’t stir as they came in, idly watching the flickering patterns the flames made on the ceiling. She had bronze skin, like someone had powdered the metal, mixed it with ochre and rubbed it into every nook and cranny of her form as best as they could. Hair that looked like it had been growing in this bed for years fanned out from her pillow like a halo of darkness, pooling on the floor.

Her eyes, though, her eyes were different. They were the true orange of butterfly wings, ringed around the iris with a thick, black line. If anything, she reminded Aidia of Marsh, somewhat. Maybe it was the slightly metallic skin, just a few shades darker than Marsh’s, or those strange eyes, but she looked like she could be a distant cousin, if only because of the weirdness.

The covers were pulled up to her chin, and there was a pack of ice on her forehead. It didn’t seem to be much help, though, and the woman looked bad off, like she had been sick for centuries, whatever illness she had slowly sapping at her energy. Those odd eyes were glazed over, and Aidia could see a fever burning through her, sweat beading up on her neck and brow.

“How long had she been sick for?” Marsh rooted through their pack for their medical kit, re-emerging with a stethoscope they had had for what seemed like decades.

The answer was immediate and automatic. “Forty-nine years, two months, three weeks, and one day.”

Well. She certainly didn’t look to be forty-nine years, two months, three weeks, and one day old, Creator only knew how many years on top of that. Marsh kneeled by her side anyway, removing the ice pack and listening to her breathing, with no reaction from her.

Marsh’s face screwed up a little bit, confused. “What species is she?”

“A Lepidoptarae Salamander, of the scarlet peacock variety.” Ah, words that Aidia understood individually, but not in that order.

Evidently, Marsh was in the same boat. “A what now?”

Oracle tilted her head, restructuring her response. “A winged fair-folk with features of the scarlet peacock, belonging to the Salamander, or fire-like families of the Seelie Court.”

That seemed to make more sense to Marsh. “What are her symptoms?”

“High fever, malaise, confusion, weakness, fatigue, disorientation, pain in the joints, chills, nausea, headache, skin discoloration.” There was no emotion in that woman’s voice and Aidia did  _ not _ like it.

“Ok, I’m starting my examination now. Holly, can you take notes for me? I’ll check them against my book if it seems familiar.”

“Oh, uh, sure thing.” Holly pulled Marsh’s notebook out of their pack, finding a pen and getting ready to write down what they asked him to.

Marsh pulled down the covers, and Aidia stifled a gasp. The woman was wearing a short white dress, closer to a nightgown than anything, but it was her skin that drew their attention. There was a darkness creeping up her extremities, like the night sky had been distilled into a black ick, filled with an infinity of flickering lights in colors Aidia could only dream about, and stained into this poor woman’s skin. So this was the discoloration.

It turned something in Aidia’s stomach, a nervousness that wouldn’t leave her be, that screamed in her head to turn back and leave, to not touch anything this woman had touched, to save herself before she wound up the same way. Was this how people felt in plagues, this crawling revulsion as everything in her body that was invested in keeping her alive told her to stop?

Beside the woman, though, Marsh looked like someone had just hung the stars in the sky for them. They narrated the ick to Hollyhock, who did his very best to only look at the notebook in his hand (he was not made for nursing duties, Aidia took note). She was rather sure that some of the colors Marsh descried were not ones that she had seen before, but alright, they seemed to make sense to Hollyhock. He also noted her temperature as Marsh narrated it for him and whatever else they needed him to write.

“High fever, shallow breathing, fast heartbeat. Infection, maybe? The ick doesn’t come off when touched and has the consistency of skin, but… wrong? That’s how I can describe it. It’s like skin, but if you told someone what it felt like and they tried to make it from scratch. I think it might have bonded to her body like a parasite.” Marsh glanced at Oracle. “Is there an apothecary in town?”

“Yes.” Simple and monotone, along with monosyllabic.

Marsh nodded. “Ok. Aidia, Holly, you guys can do the quests without me, I can work here.”

They reached for their notebook in Holly’s hands, and Hollyhock gave it to them, patting the top of their head. There was an exchange of thanks, and Marsh scribbled some things down on the page, tearing the paper out and handing it to Oracle. “Can you get these for me from the apothecary?”

“Yes. I shall leave immediately. She did, as a matter of fact, leave immediately. Aidia and Hollyhock followed her somewhat reluctantly, giving Marsh their (hopefully) temporary goodbyes.

The quests went by easily and quickly, it only took them three days to finish everything. The barn raising went without a hitch, it was just a multi-person task that the farmer needed a few extra hands for, and they got a nice lunch and a few good stories out of it, on top of the silver.

The carriage was a bit harder, it had overturned a few miles off of a small side road with lumber, sap, and ceramic panels, which meant multiple trips. It was fine, though, Aidia and Hollyhock joked around and made small talk about the local aquifers underground and Holly got to ramble about the mountain range to the west, so it wasn’t a waste of time. For a few extra silvers, they patched the roof and got a day’s worth of free drinks, along with a celebratory dinner.

Every evening, the two of them would pick Marsh up from the house (which had not gotten any less creepy) and brave Oracle (who had not gotten any less unsettling). At least they were starting to build an immunity to her, no longer flinching when she suddenly jerked to life to move about, rather than standing stock-still in the corner.

The woman in the bed, though, had started to look a bit better. Aidia didn’t know how Marsh did it, or how they did it so quickly, but, evidently, a few well-made herbal mixtures, elixirs, limb manipulation (Marsh was  _ certain _ that moving people’s limbs while they were sick and unable to do so themselves helped get the blood moving and the body healing faster, but Aidia was doubtful), and what little rudimentary magic they were willing to cast could work wonders if wielded by someone who knew what they were doing.

Not that Marsh was any good at magic, though. It never truly did what they wanted it to, always going a bit awry and exercising its own free will. In this case, though, it seemed to be working. The ick was slowly crawling back down the woman’s limbs, leaving runes, blacker than the darkest black, etched into her bronze skin. As the ick travelled further down her limbs, the lines grew thicker, until her forearms were still an unbroken shade of black.

Her skin was less ashen, though, and her fever had begun to break. She was breathing stronger, too, and actually beginning to track people with her eyes (even if there was still a glazed-over exhaustion in them). She could drink now, if someone held a cup to her lips, and Marsh had wasted no time with the elixirs and antiemetics, packed with sugar and nutrients to give her more strength and energy. They knew what they were doing. Probably.

On the third night, they made the most progress. Aidia watched (Holly had wandered off to get supplies, working from a list Aidia and Marsh had helped draft the night before), trying to ask Oracle questions, only to be shot down with short, monosyllabic answers.

Before the two of them, kneeling over the woman’s body, Marsh drew lines of a rune onto her face, referencing their book. The charcoal-herb ink passed over the bridge of her nose, sweeping under her eyes, and circling around her ears to loop in onto itself over the tops. They set their tin and brush down on the nightstand, on top of the open book, and made sure everything was in place.

Aidia realized that she hadn’t seen Marsh cast in a very long time. As they spoke, their eyes brightened, as if shining from an interior light, an unearthly shade of blue. A breeze blew into the room, breaking apart the stench of death and decay with that of storms to come and petrichor, carrying the edge of something, a knife’s blade cutting through wind.

The lines on the woman glowed the same blue as Marsh’s eyes, and their words shifted into another language, intonation morphing into a completely different tune. This one held none of the hesitant trepidation of Marsh’s usual spellcasting, no, this was sure and confident in its low ringing bells and high trembles, morphing their voice into the windchimes and gales of a thunderstorm. It was chilling to watch.

They were possessed, not by some great force outside them, but by the core of themselves, tapping into the light that spilled out of their mouth. Their body knew what it wanted as it lit itself like a candle, and it wanted it  _ now. _

The woman gasped, mouth dropping open as an outline wove itself around her in a thick blue marker, the black of the runes shifting into the same shade. The ick was fought back down, releasing its hold on her upper arms and thighs, though stopping its retreat a third of the way down her forearms, contained by the smaller, more intricate runes that wandered across her hands and arms like a scar, a stain. Her eyes flickered open wide, muscles tensing, hands pulling into fists against the bedspread.

As quickly as it started, it finished, Marsh’s voice breaking and the woman relaxing back down, breathing hard. They pulled back and regained their composure, breath emerging in clouds. They brought a hand up to their forehead, wincing. It worried Aidia when Marsh did this, when they looked so pale and disoriented, out of breath and cold, despite the warm weather outside.

Their breath was still coming out in puffs of white, as if it wasn’t the very beginning of fall, the temperature still warm enough to sleep under. They had strained themselves, overshot how much energy they would need, and now, Marsh was paying for it, a migraine no doubt coming on. Aidia moved forward to drape her short cloak over their shoulders, and they gave her a thankful look, pulling it closer around themselves.

The woman, for her part, blinked rapidly, as if seeing for the first time in years. She came back to herself, searching for meaning in the beams above her. The runes on her arms were still there, though the ink had turned to gold. They didn’t smudge as her hands fluttered up, rubbing away the ink on her face, tracing along her cheek, her jaw before throwing herself into a sitting position.

Two large butterfly wings (scarlet peacock, Aidia could assume) flung out from her back as she took stock of the Humanish in her bed, who, for their part, inched back to give her more room, rubbing their hands together to warm up. She leaned forward, attention wholly fixed on Marsh, getting into their personal space.

When she spoke, the woman’s voice was like the crackling of a forest fire, leaves slowly being consumed in the blaze. “Were you the one that healed me?” Solaqen, she was speaking in Solaqen.

“Repeat that in Trade and you’ll get an answer.” Marsh sniped back, leaning away from the woman who was crouching over them.

She obliged them, and her accent was one that Aidia had not heard before. Not that she had heard all that many Solaqen accents.

“Yeah, I am.” Marsh answered, now that they could understand, pushing the locks of hair that had fallen out of their hair tie out of their face. “Can you get off me?”

She pulled back, sitting on her heels and letting Marsh straighten, staring directly at their face. “Why?”

“Because I like my personal space.” Said the liar who frequently laid down on Aidia and Holly at inconvenient times because they were cold or bored.

“No, why have you healed me?”

“Your mom asked.”

A speck of hope entered her eyes. “My mother?”

Marsh jerked their head in Oracle’s direction. The woman followed the motion, face falling in disappointment when she saw Oracle.

“This isn’t my mother. She is my guardian.” Marsh returned to being the center of her attention. “How did you heal me? I was not meant to be healed.”

They shrugged. “I mean, it wasn’t easy, but a few elixirs, some herbs, medicine, a few adapted runes, nothing to write home about.”

“This… this is  _ not _ meant to be possible. This… shouldn’t—who  _ are _ you? What year is it? Where am I?”

“It’s possible because it’s done. I’m Marsh. It’s the ninth day of the fifth month in the 9856 th year in the Standard Trade Calendar. Nine, five, nine-eight-five-six. You’re in the Upper Centrailia region of the Kingdom of…” They trailed off and looked to Aidia. “What’s the kingdom’s name again?”

Aidia couldn’t believe this. “You don’t know?”

“It was never important!”

“Galailan. We’re in the kingdom of Galailan, formerly called Eveden. Marsh, how do you not know this?”

The woman interrupted them with a horrified whisper. “I’m in the Plane of  _ Idran _ ?”

“Are you not supposed to be?” Marsh sounded so calm. “Aidia, can I have a snack? I’m starving.”

With a nod, Aidia took some jerky out of her pouch and handed it to Marsh, who started chewing on it as soon as they could, like they hadn’t been fed all day. The woman stared at her with the barest ounce of trust, tracking her movements.

“Don’t mind me, I am called Aidia. I’m just here to pick up Marsh for the evening.” She kept her tone calm and gentle.

The woman blinked at her. “I am Mab.” She turned back to Marsh. “But who  _ are _ you?”

“I just said. I’m Marsh.” They said around a mouthful of jerky.

“I understand that, but what is your family name? Where are you from? Have you been sent for me?” Her wings stretched and trembled, trying to rise into a more active position, constrained by the confines of the ceiling.

Marsh just looked bored and tired. “Mallowmarsh Goodfellow. I’m from a smallish town in upper Centrailia, and no, I haven’t been sent for you. I don’t even know who you  _ are _ . Me, Aidia, and a friend were walking down the cross-continental footpath and your town was on it with a quest board in the center. Your guardian put up a quest to heal you, offered ten gold for it. So, no. We’re here by  _ your _ good fortune, happy?”

“You… don’t know who I am?”

“Why would I?”

She tilted her head, blinking slow, and two antennae flicked up from her hairline. “You  _ are _ of my kind, are you not?”

Marsh gave her the most tired stare they could. “No, Miss Mab, I’m not. I’m Humanish.”

“Then can you two keep my whereabouts a secret?”

Aidia was quick to chime in. “Not from our third member. We’re not driving a wedge between us for someone we’ve hardly met.”

“Do you trust in them?” The gravitas of her tone almost bordered on comedic.

Aidia thumped her chest with a closed fist, and Marsh struggled to keep their giggles inside. “With my life.”

“Then so be it. Should the Thornling know I still live, or, worse, that I have been healed.” She let loose a laugh that was far more unhinged than strictly necessary. “Would you happen to know a place to acquire safe travel to the Solaq?”

“What’s the Solaq.” Marsh folded their legs under them, chewing idly.

“How do you—wait, no, you didn’t know the kingdom’s name.”

They shrugged. “I haven’t read a book that wasn’t about medical care or astronomy in the past twenty-five years, you’re my only source of information about the outside world.”

“That isn’t a good thing, honey.” Aidia sighed, but explained, nonetheless. “The Solaq is a plane bordering ours, where fae are from. There used to be many points of access before the Thornling,” Aidia saw the question before Marsh said anything, “the Thornling is a dictator that overthrew the previous royal family, I think.”

Mab gave a harsh laugh at that. “He is the man who brought forth an ocean of blood to tear down anyone capable of stopping him. He chained millions of souls to iron.”

“Okay, cool. Do you only talk in metaphors?”

“I have found it to be best to illustrate my points.” Mab let her wings lower.

“It’s because she can’t lie, honey.” Aidia elucidated. “Fae can’t lie.”

“Why?” Oh Creator, Aidia hoped this wasn’t going to trigger a new three-week research craze.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Magic, probably.”

“It is no matter, though.” Mab got their attention. “Say, you wouldn’t happen to have heard of a fae child in Idran, would you?”

Aidia raised an eyebrow. “You have to be more specific than that.”

“They are my baby sibling. They are the Heir Apparent of the Solaqen throne, and I must keep them safe.”

Marsh was unphased. “We can keep an eye out. What do they look like?”

Mab (Princess Mab, apparently) had not thought that far ahead. “I… do not know anymore.”

“You don’t know? How do you expect to find them?” Aidia folded her hands across her chest.

“They were an infant! Hardly weaned! At the time, they had skin like bronze, golden eyes, and dark hair, but fae hair lightens to its true color after the toddler years. Their wings were just starting to develop, but only the Cycle knows what going through an unstable rift did to their appearance and features.” There was more exasperation in her tone than she meant to let on. “How hard could it be to find a fae child in the Plane of Idran?”

Marsh munched on another piece of jerky, shivering starting to subside. “Pretty hard. Plenty of things have bronze skin and golden eyes. And I know Humanish folks who have horns and feathers and scales, why not wings?”

“How old are you?” There was a new light in her eyes.

“Forty-eight or so.”

“You don’t know what age you are?”

Marsh shrugged. “My family found me in a smoldering tree stump, didn’t know how old I was, so they just counted from the day.”

“That is…” Mab was unsure of how to finish her sentence.

“It’s weird, but so’s life.”

“I see. Oracle?” The woman perked up as Mab shifted into Solaqen, attention wholly fixed on Mab. “Can you pay these people?”

“Right away, Heirling Mab.” That confirmed Aidia’s suspicions.

“Just Mab, Oracle.”

“Right away, Mab.” The tone was unchanged.

Aidia watched her go off into the recesses of the house, her skin crawling the longer she watched that woman move with such an unnatural, single-minded stiffness.

“So,” Aidia tried to make conversation, “what  _ is _ Oracle, if I may ask, and how did you come to meet her?”

“She was made for me.” Mab said, like that wasn’t a completely horrifying and upsetting concept.

“I’m sorry?” Aidia said as Marsh wiped their hands and started packing up their things, getting off of the bed.

“Oracle isn’t like you or me. She is made up of little moving metal parts. As an automaton, if that term is familiar to you. She is a thing, enchanted with a mind and made to serve.” Mab kicked her legs over the side of the bed, stretching her hands above her head to get the blood flowing.

“There’s a lot to unpack in what you just said.” Aidia politely informed her.

Mab hummed, tapping the hardwood floor with her toes. “I suppose I should see to fixing what has been damaged, now that I am able to. Fifty years, as well as passing through a rift unprotected has most likely damaged some parts of her. She shouldn’t be moving like that.”

“I’m sorry,” Aidia blinked polite confusion at her, “you passed through a rift unprotected?”

Mab gave her a helpless smile. “I needed to get out of the Solaq somehow, and I was partially lucid, so we entered a rift at random. It might have worked for my sibling, so I did it with my adult self.”

“Your  _ baby sibling _ went through a rift unprotected?” Aidia was going to have an aneurism. This was it. This was what an aneurism felt like.

“Desperate times, Miss Aidia, call for desperate measures. If they weren’t sent through, it would be their blood painting the armor of the elite soldiers. Are you aware of the value of newborn blood, especially that of royalty?”

“That’s fucked up.” Marsh piped up from the floor, putting their things back in their packs.

Mab spared them a breathy laugh at that. “Indeed.”

Oracle returned, handing a sack of coins that was most definitely too much to Aidia. She was then commanded to retrieve a red shirt and black pants from the closet, and that she did, laying the clothes out on the bed, hands clasped in front of her, waiting for Mab to rise. While Oracle did that, Aidia checked the contents of the bag and was proven right. It was roughly twice what had been advertised.

“Um, Sair Mab?” She spoke up.

As she rose on wobbly legs, Mab glanced at Aidia. “Yes, Miss Aidia?”

Aidia winced. She hated to do this. They needed the money. Present good for past evil, present good for past evil. “I believe this count is incorrect. Just from a cursory glance, it seems like it has been doubled.”

“Oh, yes. I have requested Oracle to double the pay.” She steadied herself and put her arms out for Oracle to dress her. Right, she had lived a life of rich servants. “You have done an impossibly good job, and I take it that, despite your humility, it was not as easy as you have made it out to be.” She smiled warmly down at Marsh, and Aidia saw the training of royalty.

The shift was pulled over her head, and the red shirt draped over her shoulders and pants drawn up around her waist. As Mab batted Oracle’s hands away with a Solaqen murmur (intent on doing up her own buttons, it seemed), Aidia was impressed with the fact that the hard muscles along her stomach hadn’t atrophied. What was a princess (former or otherwise) doing with that kind of strength? Was she one of those nobles that obsessed over her body to the point of decorating it with fat and muscle only for the aesthetic?

As the last button was finished, Mab smiled at them once more. “Again, thank you kindly for treating me. I am in your debt. I am more than aware that there is nowhere near enough compensation to repay you, but I do hope that the knowledge that I am incredibly grateful is meaningful in some way. If we ever meet again, by the Cycle let it be, then I owe you a favor.” She threw in a wink at that.

“Where are you off to?” Aidia inclined her head, matching Mab’s reserved joy.

“I believe that I will attend to the ruler of the kingdom. Is it still King Essren?” There was a soft note of dread in her voice, clearly anticipating an altogether long, ungainly argument to convince him of anything.

Aidia shook her head and Marsh scowled at the name. “No,” her voice was easy, “Queen Malaidor is in power now. She was the previous ambassador to the Solaq, if memory serves me correct.”

Mab brightened like Aidia had informed her that they were giving out gold by the cartload. “Mor is queen? That’s amazing! Good for her, she was always so sweet. It pleases me to no end to see that she has finally gotten her due.”

That was… not the reaction Aidia expected. She hadn’t really thought about what she  _ did _ expect, but it certainly wasn’t bubbling happiness over Malaidor’s coronation. Evidently, she had made a positive impression on the people of the Solaq. Interesting, quite interesting.

Marsh sniffed, rising to Aidia’s side. “Well, if you don’t need us for anything, we’re meeting up with our friend.”

“Of course. One last time, I thank you. Oracle, would you show them out?” Mab curtseyed flawlessly, and Aidia returned the motion with a graceful, but unpracticed one. Marsh just nodded and said their goodbyes.

Oracle led them out, and her silence and jagged movements were not made any better with the knowledge that she wasn’t a real person to begin with. They were escorted to the porch, and Oracle made a sound resembling a goodbye, closing the door with a quiet click. Sparing a glance at each other, they left the house behind, unspeaking, more than willing to keep that fragment of their lives quiet until Hollyhock made them tell him everything with that big grin and hiccupping laugh.

He was right where they expected to find him, too, sitting at the bar and telling stories about bear hunts and bonfires to fellow patrons. They enticed him out with promises of snacks and pets, Aidia swearing up and down to braid his hair, more for the joke than anything. He really just asked for a second to settle his tab (nothing) and say goodbye (to everyone). Once all of them were out of earshot of anyone and setting up dinner in their camp, Hollyhock got an explanation, taking it remarkably well. There were only a couple of “what the fuck”s woven deftly in between the silent nodding.

As the morning came, Hollyhock happily unconscious, curled around Marsh (he slept better like that, there was none of that screaming or thrashing in his sleep) as the first rays of the morning light woke Aidia. Well, it wasn’t like she was going to be going back to sleep. Breakfast was quickly cooked, and the smell roused the sleepers, Hollyhock being nudged into a sitting position and handed a bowl by Marsh as he squinted and got his bearings.

Their long walk to the sea awaited them, and they were back on the road, now twenty gold and a few scraps of silver richer. Maybe they would even have enough for a carriage, now that was a thought. Aidia would float the idea at the next waystation when the footpath intersected with the highways. Until then, they were walking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks, i have a tumblr! https://madrastique.tumblr.com/  
> liked the story? leave a comment


	10. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baby needs to learn how to cast, man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact! this chapter wasn't actually in the first draft!
> 
> Chapter Warnings:  
> \- Nudity  
> \- Discussions of Sexuality  
> \- Babie Time

Marsh had cast their vote as pro-bathing in the river. It was quick, easy, and convenient, at least, that was their argument. The three of them could also take the day to do it if they wanted to, spend some time resting, drying meat, making a dinner that wasn’t just a quick stew. Added with the fact that the footpath was just a few minutes away from the Bluestone River at any moment, it was a good case.

The rest of their group had agreed, and Marsh found that Hollyhock had been right when he mentioned that the three of them would be seeing a lot of each other. Marsh had seen that scrawny ass often enough to be able to pick Hollyhock out of a lineup from the freckles on his back alone. Aidia too. Suffice to say, they had all gotten very comfortable with nudity very quickly, not that Marsh minded it.

As always, Hollyhock had stripped first, letting himself go full nudist and splash his way into the cold water. He complained a bit, but dunked his head under, shaking like a dog when he surfaced. His hair stuck up everywhere, and Aidia scooped water in her hands to throw at him as she got in to receive happy screams, wading with more care, less eager to get soaked before she got used to the temperature of the water.

Marsh was last, and Marsh liked to be last. They crept into the water (gods and men, it was  _ cold _ ), grimacing at the chill that crept deep into their bones, making sure to stretch out the process of getting acclimated for as long as they possibly could before dunking their head under the water and resurfacing with wet hair and cold skin. Holly gave them some cheerful applause, and Aidia blew kisses at them in solidarity. Fine, they were cold and wet, but at least they were getting clean, everyone’s clothes drying on the rocks by the edge of the river.

Nearby Hollyhock crouched down to kneel on the riverbed, blowing bubbles out of his submerged mouth as he brushed his hair, letting the parts he finished float on the surface of the water. He claimed it helped in getting all the knots out without also removing a good and painful chunk of hair from his head. For their part, Marsh just pulled a brush through their hair, knots be damned, and dealt with the clumps they lost later. It grew back and it wasn’t like they were lacking in the hair department.

“Hey Hollyhock?” Marsh threw their hairbrush onto the grass at the shore as they finished.

Holly pulled his face out of the water, looking a bit like a river witch with his long black hair and bright blue eyes. “Yeah?”

“So, you’re patroned, right?”

There was a lick of hesitation. “Yeah?”

“So, you should practice casting.”

“No.” Holly straightened, wringing his hair out and pulling the brush through it once more to ensure that it was neat and detangled. The man was very particular about his hair.

Aidia glanced at him, following the conversation and taking the initiative to throw her hat into the ring. “Why don’t you? Practice, I mean.”

Hollyhock looked at her like she had suggested that he set the moon on fire with his mind and a bit of rabbit fur.

“It wouldn’t hurt.” Marsh added, sampling the incredulity in Holly’s face.

“ _ Yes, _ it would.”

Aidia countered with a pointed look. “It will only get that much worse if you avoid it. It’s like not stretching or exercising after surgery, you need to do it.”

“I—”

Marsh cut him off. “Practice. Now. Really. If anything goes wrong, I’ll be right here to patch everyone up. It’ll be  _ fine. _ ”

Hollyhock bit his lip, hands coming down to pick at the handle of his brush. “I… fine. Fine.”

Aidia delivered unto him a wide smile, and Marsh clapped their hands, bouncing, more than excited. That just got a tired eyeroll from Hollyhock, who took a few steps back and tried to center himself on his breathing.

“Oh!” Marsh had, apparently, had an idea. “What if you take off your eyepatch? Do you think your eye’ll see things differently if you’re casting as you go?”

“But it gives me headaches and makes everything look weird.” Holly whined as he took off his eyepatch, blinking at the two of them, eyebrows drawing together. “Okay, I haven’t started casting, but both of you look different.”

“How so?” Aidia asked.

“You look less… like you. That’s the best way I can put it. Aidia, you look more orc-like. Bigger tusks, for one thing, actual proper tusks, I mean, and one’s broken off. Long white hair, but your eyes are completely black. And Marsh, it’s like you’re wearing a ceramic mask and there’s this blue glow all around you. It kind of looks like there’s water stains around the eyes and mouth. And there’s these strings connecting all of us and going off to random places, dark blue, with a thicker one between you two. I don’t know.”

“Huh.” Marsh hummed. “Cool.”

Marsh touched a hand to their face, feeling uncomfortably seen. It was almost like Hollyhock had managed to strip away far too many years of pretense and pretending away, brushing off everything they had been taught (how most people felt sexual or romantic attraction--or both, to Marsh’s constant confusion--how people liked it when Marsh make eye contact with them, how they had to watch their words because their innocent statements could be seen as offensive). It was disconcerting.

Beside them, Aidia seemed to have gone through her own thought spiral, and as she dragged herself back into the present, she smiled in that perfect way that was obviously taught, rather than natural. “What are you waiting for? Cast!”

Tamping down his grimace, Hollyhock took a deep breath, letting his gaze fix onto the surface of the water. And then, he opened his mouth and began to sing.

Hollyhock’s voice was beautiful. No, beautiful wasn’t the right word. It was like someone had taken every ounce of wonder in the world and wrapped it up into the sound of his singing. His voice was a gift from long dead gods that lived in the stage just before death when life seemed to be the most perfect thing in the world. It made the inside of Marsh’s mind light up with a wonder, and a deep, all encompassing chill. That voice could throw them against the rocks of a shore like a storm to a sailboat, smashing them into driftwood, never to be seen again.

The world fell away as the two of them stood, enraptured, frozen. Ozone and bitter herbs drifted on the air, an unmistakable scent, strong enough that their mouth was choked with it, so thick that they could drool it out if they opened their jaws. Marsh couldn’t move. It broke on them like a wave, they couldn’t move. Neither could Aidia. The river swirled around them in eddies, the wind sliced through the trees like a blade.

On the shores, the grass grew towards them with delicate fingers and boughs bent, reaching their wooden claws at Hollyhock, wanting to seize him, wanting to claim him. He didn’t notice, though. All he could do was stare into the water, eyes glowing a deep green, no emotion present on his face. It was like he was a fixed point, immovable, immutable, as if an arrow had pinned him to the fabric of reality.

This was worse than when he had gotten the bass, there was far less control,  _ far _ less control. The first few experimental strums of the bass had led to power, yes, and the glowing eyes, true, but Holly had frozen in place like he was being burned the second after it had happened, shoving the horror and revulsion back down inside himself. Now, though? Now he was actually channeling, actually  _ using _ what had been given to him.

A branch dipped under the surface of the water, sending ripples out across the stillness. That broke Holly’s concentration, voice drying up into a rasp as he snapped his mouth closed. He staggered, suddenly unbalanced by the gentle current like a newborn deer, the blue of his good eye returning. Holly gagged, reaching into his mouth and pulling out leaves. The fear in his eyes reminded Marsh of a mouse staring down a cat, and Aidia found it in her to take an uncertain step back.

Marsh wasn’t going to be scared of him, it was  _ Hollyhock _ , for the gods’ sakes, what was the worst he could do? They reached an arm up, and his head whipped up, eyes like a wild animal.

“No.” He backed up, raising his hands like he was trying to convince them that he was unarmed. “Please don’t.”

“Why not? You’re hurt.” They kept moving forward, and Aidia got over her anxiety, following them towards Holly, if a few slow steps back.

“I’m monstrous.”

Marsh shook their head as he gagged again, doubling over. He was pale. “You’re not. Let me help. Please.”

Their hand circled around his wrist, and there was a straining tension in Holly’s body as two warring instincts battled it out in his brain, torn between pulling away and disappearing into the woods, never to be seen again, and letting Marsh baby him. It was Aidia’s hand, strong on his shoulder, that decided the matter for him. He ducked his head, and Marsh could hear the hitch of Holly’s breath as tears began to well up in his eyes.

“Sweetheart, hey, hey, it’s okay.” Aidia rubbed his back gently as Marsh brushed the wet strands that were stuck to his forehead behind his ear, nudging themselves under his arm to help him up to shore.

“We’ve got you, you’re okay.” They soothed, and Holly got his legs under him as they lurched to the embankment.

“I’m going to throw up.” He said, looking too green for Marsh’s liking.

“You’re not.” They promised.

Aidia lifted Holly up carefully, setting him down on the rocks next to the clothing. “You just need to practice and learn to control it, you did good.”

Hollyhock just shook his head, like he was trying to shake off the praise.

Squishing his cheeks with their palms, Marsh pressed their forehead to Holly’s for a brief moment, like their mother had done when they would feel like the world was moving far too fast for them. It was soothing, at least to Marsh, and they hoped that Holly derived some kind of enjoyment from it too.

“Sure, it was a bit unsettling in the moment,” they kept their voice light and placating, “but you didn’t lose control. You stopped yourself before anyone got hurt, and that’s what matters. We can just work on little things, like learning how to sing and not cast, and then on control.”

“I could’ve hurt you.” Hollyhock leaned into their touch, eyes on the stone below him.

Aidia rubbed his back (gods, this man was skinny, Marsh realized for the hundred and sixth time). “But you didn’t, you could control yourself, and that’s more than can be said for some non-casters, even.”

Holly chuckled a little bit at that, but it was a far darker sound than either of them had expected. Aidia’s brows knit together with concern, and Marsh did their best to not let the worry show on their face. They did  _ not _ like the implications of that laugh.

The words spilled out of Holly like an undammed river. “It felt weird. Really weird. Almost like I was out of my body and there was something else controlling me, but that something was me, and I was guiding the strings that held me up, like one of those weird puppets, right?” He didn’t stop for their response. “But I could hear—no, not hear, that’s the wrong word for it. Feel? I guess? Kind of like a thought, but I knew it wasn’t one of my own, and that was in my head whispering things to me.”

“What kinds of things?” Marsh asked before politeness could get the better of them.

“I think it was a story.” Confusion screwed up Holly’s face as he pulled away to look Marsh in the eyes. They steeled themselves against the discomfort like they’d been taught, resisting the urge to glance away. “What kind of patron tells their patroned a story?”

Aidia took a seat on the rock, continuing to pet Holly. “What was the story about?”

“A scarab beetle that fell in love with a birch tree being choked by ivy, that was as much as I could understand. It was really weird.” He ran a hand through his hair, blinking hesitantly in the bright light. There were shimmers floating in his green eye, like there was  _ glitter _ in it. Huh. “I’m tired, too. Really tired and heavy.”

Aidia thunked her forehead gently against the back of his head. “Why don’t we have a rest day, then, and you can try magic again later, alright? Maybe it would be different with your bass.”

“What?” There was so much disbelief that it almost crowded out his words.

“Try again, casting I mean. Maybe if you’re around less plants—because we  _ are _ getting an inn tonight, look at the clouds rolling in, I would  _ not _ want to be out at nightfall—” She was right, there were storm clouds on the horizon, “then you would have more precision. It never hurts to try, and think about how well you would sleep.”

“I… fine. Okay. Sure.” His chuckle was far less heavy. “Why not, who knows, maybe it’ll save our life one day.”

“That’s the spirit.” Marsh patted his head. “Now what are we doing for our rest day?”

“…resting?” Holly said like it was a trick question.

Marsh resisted the urge to laugh, drawing their knuckle along the underside of Holly’s chin, instead, feeling three-day-old stubble just starting to graze at their skin. “I was thinking something slightly more engaging.”

Aidia threw her hands up and stood, walking away with her clothes and boots until she was both out of sight and earshot. “I’m neither looking at nor hearing this. You two have your fun.”

Holly chuckled at that, and Marsh leaned forward, feathering a kiss against his cheek. There was a flinch as he pulled away, face twisted into worry.

“What’s wrong?” Marsh let their hands fall into their lap.

His eyes slipped from their face to land on the stone beneath them. “I’m sorry I led you on.”

“What?” What was he even talking about? If anything, it was Marsh doing the leading?

“I, um, you probably want some kind of relationship, and I just want you to know that I… can’t do that. Not ever. I, uh, I don’t get romantic feelings, or crushes, or want to date, or anything. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with me, but I’m never going to  _ love _ you—”

Marsh cut him off by wrapping their fingers around his forearms. “Oh, neither do I. Or sexual attraction, either, I just think sex is fun?”

A tense moment passed, before Holly started to chuckle letting a smile creep over him, infecting Marsh. They pulled him in again with a gentle tug to his forearms, capturing his lips in the most tender kiss they could. It wasn’t the least bit risqué, they were barely even touching, but Holly reacted like Marsh had palmed at his dick and kissed him until he couldn’t think anymore, eyes blown wide.

They gave a light chuckle, and Holly blinked, coming back to himself. “Want to make out?” His hand wrapped around Marsh’s waist and tugged them closer. Marsh obliged him, sliding into his lap to get a better angle.

“I thought you’d never ask.” They breathed against his mouth.

They kissed him soundly, and Holly responded, pressing himself against Marsh, tracing his fingers in little pleasing shapes along their back. It was nice, kissing Hollyhock, without the rush of needing to bathe or get to sleep. No, they had all the time in the world to enjoy the comfort of skin to skin, mouth to mouth. It was soothing, this base connection, and Marsh found their hands rubbing tiny circles into Holly’s cheeks, reveling in the feeling of his stubble under their thumbs.

They broke the kiss to let out a laugh. Holly whined under them, chasing them to their neck, mouthing lightly enough so as not to leave bruises. There was a curious trill, muffled by his mouth on Marsh, that escaped Holly.

“We should shave you.”

Holly snorted, leaning back to look at them. “I might grow a beard. You never know. It might look nice.”

“Yeah, after three months.” Marsh smushed his cheeks together.

He frowned, almost mockingly. “Oh, fuck you.” There was a tease to his voice as he said it.

Marsh pressed another kiss to his cheek. “I never said it was bad.”

“You never said it was good, either.” Hollyhock sighed. “I have a razor in my pack somewhere, I can shave tomorrow or something. Can we please go back to the kissing? That or a nap, I’m not picky.”

That he wasn’t, and, thus, Marsh kissed him nice and slow until they were both tired and relaxed, lazing back on the rocks and watching the clouds until Aidia was hollering at them to stop whatever they were doing, put on some pants, and join her for some dinner. Stew, to be specific, and Marsh willingly put on pants for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks, i have a tumblr! https://madrastique.tumblr.com/  
> liked the story? leave a comment


	11. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magic practice is important!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings:  
> None, it's just cute

The room they had gotten at the inn was just a little bit too small for Hollyhock’s needs. There was barely enough space to walk across the floorboards (it was far from the nicest place they could’ve stayed at, but, in Holly’s personal opinion, it was better than sleeping outside in the rain), let alone pile three people into a room and expect to be able to play music.

Aidia and Marsh had elected to perch on the bed, Marsh being held like a giant pillow in between Aidia’s crossed legs, leaning their head back against her chest. Their leg kicked in the air, watching Hollyhock play idly, holding a water flask, should he need it. He didn’t but the thought was nice.

It was easier to control himself now that Hollyhock was actually letting himself practice and getting the hang of what magic actually  _ felt _ like. As much as he hated to admit it, Aidia and Marsh had been right. To him, it felt like a tide, pulling in and out, and the more Hollyhock learned to move with it and predict its motions, the more control he had. It was almost like learning to swim, once he got it, he got it. Something had clicked in Holly’s head, and he was able to cast without horrendously maiming anyone, and they were all going to consider that an achievement.

As the song, a simple thing he had learned the melody of years ago and spent summers howling out with friends as they ran through the woods like wild animals, ended. Holly was very happy to see that nothing had been altered, in fact, any subtle changes the magic had made were undone. He had actually done it. He hadn’t fucked everything up accidentally.

“I… I think that went okay.” Hollyhock dared to voice it, resting his hand on the body of his bass.

Marsh hummed at him in assent. “Nothing’s dead, there aren’t plants trying to get in through the windows, I think it did.”

“Yes, you did great, Hollyhock.” Aidia smiled at him, and Holly couldn’t stop the grin that bloomed over his face.

“Do you think I might actually be able to choose what I cast?” He asked.

Aidia patted the bed next to her, and Holly took off his guitar to set it on the desk that had been so graciously provided to them. Lying on his stomach on the bed with legs dangling off of the end, Hollyhock let himself take refuge in the softness of the sheets.

“Take off your boots.” She ruffled his hair anyway as he kicked the offending articles off. “And maybe, but you would need a lot of practice.”

“Hm.” He agreed, enjoying the feeling of Aidia’s hand running through his hair as he let his legs idly drift, stretching the muscles. “My scar felt warm, this time. It was weird.”

“Huh.” Was Marsh’s response as they crawled out of Aidia’s lap, taking a look at what parts of Holly’s scar were still visible under his eyepatch.

Holly propped himself up on his elbows, back cracking. “You want to take a look?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t.” He replied and flipped his hair out of his face, sliding his eyes closed.

Aidia ran her fingers through Holly’s hair as Marsh delicately took off his eyepatch and set it down on the bedspread next to them. A shiver ran through Hollyhock as fingers ghosted over the edges of his scar, but he kept still, letting Marsh’s gentle, practiced hands instruct him to tilt his head so that they could see better. In the back of his mind, a primal part of Holly’s brain screamed at him to pull away and save himself, but he let Marsh look and touch without flinching.

It felt as it always did, the ever-present numbness, seasoned with the barest hint of sensation. If Hollyhock had to describe it, it would be the somatic equivalent of hearing someone screaming in the cellar of the house next door during a thunderstorm. And unpleasant. That too. It was not a nice sensation, but, if history had taught Holly anything, exposing himself to touch was better than leaving his brain to fester in the absence of it. The last thing he wanted was to have half of his face become a numb spot that no one was allowed to touch.

Except Marsh, of course. Marsh was allowed to touch. They were probably one of the best, if not the actual best, medical practitioners he had ever been to. Gentle enough to be painless, but confident, Marsh worked perfectly around any weirdness that had come up biologically and accepted any accommodation Hollyhock had requested. If he asked, they would be more than happy to examine him from ten feet away behind a silk screen painted with blackbirds and doves. Sure, it would make everyone’s lives more difficult, but they would, and that was what mattered.

A tap on Holly’s cheek got his attention.

“Can you open your eye?” Marsh asked them, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

“Sure thing, Marshmallow.” Hollyhock opened it, ignoring the regular protest that was lobbed his way.

Things still looked wrong through that eye, that hadn’t changed now that he had started casting. The world was filtered through a watery green light, and the strings hadn’t changed at all, and neither had Aidia or Marsh’s forms. The blue string still drifted in the air, connecting the three of them by the wrists, and a deep purple string, slack around their waist, pulled northward before splitting in two, both going off in different directions. On Aidia, the purple was taut around her neck, moving off to the northwest. It reminded Hollyhock of a noose too much to bring it up.

“Hollyhock?” Aidia’s hand stilled in his hair, giving him a nudge back to reality.

“Mm?”

“Marsh asked if everything is still the same.”

He nodded. “Yeah, it is.”

“Hm.” They tied the eyepatch back over his eye. “Weird.”

“Whatever you say.” Hollyhock sat back up on his heels, Aidia removing her hand from his head. “I was thinking of getting some dinner, any takers?”

Reaching her arms up against the wall, Aidia stretched out her spine. “I could go for something to eat, was there a place we could stop at in town?”

“I think there was a restaurant on Main Street.” Marsh slid off of the bed.

Hollyhock followed them, tugging his boots back on. “I’d be alright with that. Aidia?”

“Sure,” she shrugged, getting herself in order, “that’s fine by me. Anything we would like to do afterwards?”

Marsh perked up at that. “We can walk on the causeway along the river. I think I saw a bookstore.”

Aidia chuckled at that, straightening Hollyhock’s shirt and smoothing down the rumpled fabric. “Are you looking for the next book in that series, Mouse Detective: Detective for Mice, right? Is that what it’s called?” Marsh nodded, blushing a little bit. “I doubt that they have it, sweetheart.”

“Hey, you don’t know that.” Holly tossed his hat into the fray, Marsh just looked so heartbroken, he  _ had _ to side with them. “No harm in checking it out.”

They all but bounced at that, sparkles and sunshine in their big gold eyes. “Please?” It was a plea strategically designed to wear Aidia down, and it worked.

“Alright, but don’t get your hopes up, hon.”

“I will and you can’t stop me.” Marsh shoved their coin purse into their pocket.

That got a smile out of Aida, and she pressed a kiss to the top of Marsh’s head. Cloaks were donned and Aidia got her shoes on. They certainly had different fashion styles, that was the first thing that popped into Holly’s head, from his dark green hunting jacket (yes, it might have been rather inappropriate for the temperature, but he didn’t have anything waterproof), to Aidia’s red shawl (she had resigned herself to the rain), and Marsh’s hooded, brown cloak (it felt a bit like overkill, but whatever kept the rain out, Holly guessed). They left the inn together, ready for a night out on the town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks, i have a tumblr! https://madrastique.tumblr.com/  
> liked the story? leave a comment


	12. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new member joins the fray?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I FINALLY GET TO SHOW YALL MY ACTUAL LITERAL CHILD I LOVE HIM SO FUCKING MUCH
> 
> Also!! New related work in this collection for Valentine's Day! It's a scene I didn't get to add so come check it out for some good good smut!
> 
> Chapter Warnings:  
> No warnings :3c

It wasn’t a good day. That was Marsh’s official statement on the matter. The three of them had woken up to rain pounding against the roof of their inn room, and ‘enjoyed’ a cold breakfast on the road. There weren’t any places to stop at and eat. The inn didn’t have a mess hall. Wonderful. The deluge that had started up the previous night as they had made their way back from the restaurant hadn’t let up, the sky still heavy and dark.

The trio was soaked, trudging one foot in front of the other for what must have been hours now. Aidia had thrown on a cloak that was vaguely waterproof and pulled her hood up, keeping out the rain. Holly had accepted his fate and shoved everything important to the bottom of his pack (he’d had the good sense to stitch a waterproof lining into it back before he’d left his hometown, thank the gods). That left Marsh to lug anything that wouldn’t be ruined if it got soaked through.

Their boots were waterlogged, and there was the worst squelch ever with every step they took. Their cloak was heavy with rain. The hood had been thrown back over their shoulder after it had been drenched so thoroughly that rivulets of cold water ran down their spine when it was up. It was going to take longer than forever to dry everything off when they finally reached an inn, they lamented inside their head. Behind them, Aidia and Hollyhock talked about something or other, towns and settlements and farming. Frankly, Marsh didn’t care.

There was a deep coldness creeping into their bones, and they couldn’t resist the shiver that coursed through the length of their spine. Marsh’s hair was plastered to the side of their head, drops of water dripping down their shirt. The luxury of warmth was nigh unaffordable in weather like this.

Beside them, Aidia and Hollyhock reacted to something, heads whipping up to look into the sky, eyes searching for something high above them. Craning their neck up, silently cursing whichever bastard god (Tarroc. It was always Tarroc when it came to rain) had decided that rain was so great and wonderful, they could just barely hear the sound of wingbeats over the white noise of raindrops as they saw something small and winged circling the air above them, a black speck against the dark grey clouds.

Marsh’s hand found their crossbow at the same time Aidia drew her scimitar and Hollyhock drew his dagger out of its sheath in a motion too fast for Marsh to spot. The circling thing swooped lower, heading towards them. Marsh loaded their crossbow and took aim tentatively, Aidia shielding them and Holly with an arm.

As the figure approached, the trio could make out huge, draconic wings attached to a man. Marsh was pretty sure he was a man. The green scales that covered him and the dragon face made gender a bit hard to determine, but with what they could tell from at  _ least _ ten pounds of soaked clothing, he seemed to have sprung for a more masculine presentation. He landed lightly in front of them, folding his wings tight against his back.

He managed to hold onto the barest scrap of dignity, even while drenched to the bone. The armor he wore was a bronze breastplate, though, why this dragon was wearing it in both weather like this and in the sky was lost on Marsh. Under that was a mature-looking white shirt, dress jacket, half cape, trousers, and well-to-do boots. A shortsword was strapped to his hip, though the half cape didn’t do much to keep the rain off of it, he would probably need to take care of it when he got inside. Tall and regal, he graced the world at just over six-foot, spine held up straight and tall like he was compensating for something as the self-described pinnacle of evolution.

He dripped water onto the sodden earth, nonetheless.

“Hail and well met, travelers.”

His voice was higher than Marsh had expected, but it had that holier-than-thou way about it, and an accent peeked into his overly formal words. It sounded respectable, maybe even commanding, if they were willing to stretch it that far. It was so practiced into the wall that even Marsh thought it would be impolite to point out how absolutely fake it sounded.

Even so, they lowered their crossbow, Aidia sheathed her scimitar, and the daggers disappeared to a different spot on Hollyhock’s person. Marsh wasn’t going to ask. They were happier not knowing how many weapons Holly currently had on him and let their scowl deepen. The last thing they wanted to do was engage with this new pompous asshole.

“Hi!” Hollyhock gave the man a genial smile. “Lovely weather, isn’t it?”

The man didn’t smile at Holly’s joke, face instead sinking into a light frown. “I wouldn’t say so. Where might you all be heading?”

Marsh spoke before anyone else could with a short, sharp, uninviting bark. “Town.”

“Is that so?” He turned to them, trying on a smile that he probably prayed was convincing. “Would you care for some accompaniment… Sair?” The honorific was tacked on like he had forgotten every single respectful term in Trade.

“No.” They all but snarled, tone leaving nothing to question.

“O-oh.” The smile wavered a bit, becoming forced.

Something in Aidia’s form softened. “Well, I wouldn’t say that.”

Marsh gave her the most betrayed look they could.

She braved on, resting a hand on their head. “Where are you heading?”

“Ah, I am destined for the capital city, myself, Miss.” He knotted his fingers together in front of him, claws picking at his knuckles.

“So are we!” She beamed at him. “What’s your plan to get there?”

The brief hesitation spoke more than any words he might have chosen. He didn’t know. “I thought that flying might be a good idea, Miss.”

“Please, call me Aidia. We could use some company if you’d like.”

Marsh pushed her hand off. “Absolutely not.”

“No, she’s right, Marshmallow. I vote yes.” Hollyhock leaned his elbow on Marsh’s shoulder.

They shrugged him off. “That’s not my name, ignorant slut. And he’s a stranger.”

“I may be a slut, but I’m not ignorant. And so was I, come on, it’ll be fun.”

He had a point. Unfortunately, he had a point.

“So, what is that?” Aidia gave them a glance, happily taking note of Marsh’s begrudging consent. “Two for, one against?”

Marsh folded their arms close to their chest, giving her only a grumpy sniff.

Their brooding was interrupted by a cheerful bap on their head from one Hollyhock Kenning. “You need to meet new people somehow, and you can’t do that by being rude.” He turned his attention back to the dragon, sticking out his hand. “Hi, I’m Hollyhock, by the way, and this is Marsh, great to meet you!”

He eyed the offending limb with barely disguised disdain and kept his hand at his sides. “I am Ahren of Jarra-Hzsii, Sir.”

“Just Hollyhock or Holly’s fine!” Came the pleasant grin.

Aidia smiled as well. “I look forward to travelling with you, now, let’s keep walking, right, everyone? Just a few more hours to town!” How could she be so cheerful.

Ahren seemed surprised both at Aidia actually knowing roughly how long the walk would take and the fact that the four of them were going to be walking for hours. Holly gave Aidia a good-natured groan (Marsh’s were genuine) and began their forward march again, now with the extra head in tow. In the rear, Hollyhock and Aidia resumed their playful argument masquerading as a conversation about the best way to plan a town. The half-elf was arguing that a wheel and spoke pattern was best and would increase community cohesion and make city growth easier. Aidia, though, liked grid systems, citing the fact that plumbing and utilities would be easier to lay, and that travel through the city would be easier.

They were deep enough in conversation that Ahren, after a few minutes of walking beside them, trying and failing to sneak a word or two in, simply gave up and moved to walk beside Marsh in the front. Marsh didn’t acknowledge him, simply pulling their sodden cloak tighter around them. No. Not today. Of course, Ahren stepped closer, as if Marsh just failed to notice he was there and was just fixing their gaze on the road ahead of them for fun.

“So, ah, Marsh, is it?” Ahren imitated their position, staring his gaze at the road that was more mud than dirt, sneaking glances at Marsh out of the corner of his eye.

“Yeah.”

“May I ask a question?” Oh gods, he wasn’t going to shut up, was he.

“Fine.” Maybe one-word answers would dissuade him. They usually did.

“Do you travel often?”

“Unfortunately.” There was a flash as lightning lit up the sky, a loud crack of thunder booming across the tops of the tree canopy. Ahren flinched back, like he could hide in his clothes while Marsh flicked their eyes skyward.

He tried to straighten back up, but his attention lingered on the sky. “I see. Do you think that we are in any danger?” His voice sounded a lot smaller than before.

Marsh blinked. This was unexpected. “Are you scared of thunder?”

“No, of course not!” His words were too fast, and his laugh was a lie. “I was merely wondering if there was a chance of getting hit by lightning, it can be quite deadly.”

“Eh.” Marsh shrugged. It hadn’t hurt that bad when they were twelve, how much worse could it be now?

A chuckle that was probably a lot more nervous than Ahren hoped escaped him. “I see.” He watched Marsh’s hand rub at their arms in a vain attempt to warm them up. Gods, their skin felt like it was chilled to the bone. It was early fall, there was no reason for it to be this horrible outside. “Would you like my cloak?”

“Five ends, I don’t.” The oath seemed to confuse him, yeah, dragons probably weren’t familiar with Marsh’s local creation story with the five apocalypses. “It’s a saying.” They found themselves explaining before they could help themselves. “Because in my folklore, there were five worlds before this.”

“Ah, I see.” He said, not seeing at all.

“Hm.” Marsh said before they could flap their mouth some more and sped up their pace, stretching the crew thinner.

The four of them walked like that for a time, Marsh leading the charge while Ahren followed them like a lost dog. Holly and Aidia rambled on in what seemed like a fun argument until they reached the outskirts of the town, the beginnings of waterlogged farms dotting the forest around them and a bell tower peeking through the trees. The river had overflowed and started pooling into the more regular streets of the town, flooding the wagon ruts and making transport all the more difficult. It was just large enough to have an inn, one whose windows were currently shuttered against the storm.

The group condensed, and by that, Marsh meant that Aidia and Hollyhock shifted up to flank them while Ahren trailed behind them as they approached the building. Holly held the door open for them, and Ahren thanked him a little more than necessary. The inn had been named ‘Rosewater’s’, and they were promptly given a bucket to wring themselves out by the innkeep as Holly checked them in.

Marsh plopped themselves down in front of the fire, eyes squeezing closed as the warmth began to seep into their bones. This was not worth the day they’d had, but it was compensation enough. This, and the hot meal that they were being promised in a few hours. They were going to take such a good nap, that was what they thought over the dry, crackling heat.

The moment was, unfortunately, not going to last. Aidia called them over to where Holly was at the counter and slowly, without any outward complaint, Marsh got their old bones to her side. Ahren drew near, hovering behind her with a poorly hidden look of worry.

“Okay.” Aidia started. “So, the beds are small, so we’ll be doubling up.” Aidia handed Marsh a room key and eyed Ahren. “I think it might be best for me to sleep with Holly, because of the…” She left the second half of her sentence unsaid, and Holly tried to convey as much apology as he could.

Right. They didn’t want Ahren to be subject to the Hollyhock experience of being woken in the middle of the night to screaming. Even still, they gave the illusion of a fight, letting out a groan.

“I can’t sleep with you guys?”

“It’s a small bed.” Holly smoothed their hair down fondly. “We can  _ try _ , but it’ll be a bit of a squeeze?”

Aidia tried to fix their cloak as best she could. “It’s just for the night, okay?”

“You’re so cruel to me.” Marsh deadpanned, bumping Aidia’s arm with their forehead.

Behind them, Ahren cleared his throat. “Do I, ah, do I not get a say in this?”

Hollyhock tilted his head, looking like a confused dog. “Is there a problem with that?”

“I—well, it’s just so… Should I not get my own room? I  _ am _ , well—I have  _ different _ needs.” Ahren’s words tripped over themselves in his mouth as the amusement slowly died in Hollyhock’s eyes.

He righted his gaze and set his shoulders. Hollyhock was a different person like this, gone was the eternal movement of his body, the light and easy sway that he did on the balls of his feet, the cheery smile that glinted in his eyes. No, this was a new man, one that was hard and stern and wouldn’t take discord in his group. Marsh didn’t like this Hollyhock very much.

“Put out the coin and sure, you can do whatever you want. Marsh is a perfect roommate, though. You’ll be fine.” His tone invited nothing as he led the group upstairs, finding their rooms without much trouble. “I do hope I’ll be seeing you for dinner, Mister Jarra-Hzsii.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks, i have a tumblr! https://madrastique.tumblr.com/  
> liked the story? leave a comment


	13. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh Maker, they were nudists.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahren's perspective is always a fun perspective <3 also!! we just cleared 200 hits so (as the next few chaps come out) i might nab yall a lil bonus scene! thank yall so much!!
> 
> Chapter Warnings:  
> \- Only a little bit of a panic attack  
> \- As a treat

Ahren wasn’t going to survive this. That was as clear as the sky in the summer, a dizzying blue that made the light seem like it was flooding in from everywhere at once and like the world was floating. The rain was still coming down in sheets and a deep chill had found its way into Ahren’s bones. It wasn’t going to be a good time.

The half-elf, Hollyhock, had made it abundantly clear how much he disliked Ahren, and he was more than aware of the precarious situation he was in. If they decided to evict him at this moment, well, Ahren really didn’t want to think about that. They knew the way to the capital city, and he had been told to fly east to the sea. He didn’t even know what the sea looked like, and, chances are, he would keep on flying until he died of exposure. Ahren also didn’t know where east was, and that was a problem.

Marsh unlocked the door, and Ahren followed them in, trying to figure out how to ingratiate himself to them. Maybe they could convince Hollyhock not to throw him out. He had skills. Potentially. Almost numbly, Ahren watched Marsh place their things down on the desk, leaving the small dresser for Ahren. He took it gladly, happy enough to be living inside tonight.

Looking around, finally, the room was small. Very small. There was just enough space for the both of them to coexist, and they were almost certainly going to be tripping over each other in an attempt to preserve some modicum of personal space and dignity. There was also only one bed, white sheets freshly laundered. Ah. Hollyhock had been right about it being small. It appeared that Ahren was going to be sleeping on the floor (though it would be a nice spot in front of the furnace on the side Marsh had chosen, so it wouldn’t be that bad).

As Marsh unpacked, Ahren did his best to come to terms with this arrangement. This was… fine. He could survive this, if only for the night. Might as well take Marsh’s example and unpack. His coin purse was set on top of the dresser, closely followed by his sheathed sword. Should he remove his half cape? Was that an appropriate action to do in this scenario if his clothing was still soaked? It  _ was _ wet, and Marsh had been hanging the clothing in their pack on their desk and chair in front of the furnace to help dry it out.

It was the wet thwump of fabric on the floor behind Ahren that made him turn. He froze, unable to avert his gaze from the scene before him. Marsh stood, their back to him, cloak in a pile on the floor, sodden shirt currently in the process of being pulled over their head. They shook their loose hair out and threw the offending article down to join the slowly-growing clothing pile before fumbling with their belt.

A blush crept into Ahren’s cheeks at this, this sheer audacity that Marsh had, stripping down in front of him. What were these people? A nudist colony? Oh Maker, was he spending the night with a  _ nudist _ ? What else were they going to take off? Their pants? Or, worse, their  _ undershirt _ ? What kind of hedonistic fetishists had he stumbled upon, so depraved that they would strip down for no reason? He couldn’t help the quiet whine of stupefied shock that bubbled out of the recesses of his throat.

The universe was not kind to Ahren. Of course it wasn’t. When had it ever been? The world had abandoned his side from the moment he was born to the nights he had laid in his bed, trying to ignore the gnawing ache in his stomach. His father used to bring him something from the kitchens on nights like that, until he didn’t. And now he was with  _ nudists _ ! He had only been flying (and thanking the Maker that his two months of weakness and sickness were finally over and he could walk again. If he never ate a mushroom again, it would be too soon), trying to find out which way was east so he could lessen the blow of how late he was, when he had run into a group of humanoids that seemed to know the way to the capital city.

One of which, as it so happened, had heard the involuntary squeak Ahren didn’t want to address and twisted, looking over their shoulder with an expression that looked so bored it was lewd. As their belt was placed onto the table, their pants pulled away from their legs, having been plastered to them from the downpour. It was so  _ indecent _ , and Ahren’s slack-jawed astonishment must have been present on his face.

“What is it?” Marsh’s tone made it abundantly clear how much they didn’t care, and they took the moment to stretch their arms, displaying themselves like they had never been taught propriety.

Ahren was rendered speechless by this brazen display. “I—you—your—”

Turning on their heels, Marsh faced Ahren, hands finding purchase on their belt loops. “Are you blushing?” They leaned forward, eyes narrowing, and  _ oh, oh my. _ Ahren felt his pulse stutter (was he getting sick again?) under the sharp gaze of those clever eyes, shining like molten gold incarnate.

He started out of his stupor, jerking his head to the side and clearing his throat, doing everything in his power to demonstrate how much of a threat he wasn’t. “I—no! I most certainly am not!” He lied, feeling the heat in his face only grow. “I was merely trying to afford you a respectful amount of privacy that someone currently in your… position… would enjoy.”

“My position?” Ahren didn’t need to look at Marsh to hear the look he was being given, a scowl so forceful that their nose would scrunch up and annoyance would glimmer in their eyes and—no. Get back on topic.

“Someone in your, ah, state of vulnerability.” He finished, keeping his head down.

The sound of two boots falling was like the crack of a whip to Ahren. Footfalls, soft and muted, approached, Marsh’s shadow looming in the corner of his vision. A bronze hand tightened around Ahren’s shirt collar, pulling him down to their eye level. Their face was a mask of neutral displeasure, hovering just inches from Ahren’s own. A pit formed in Ahren’s stomach.

Deep heat, shame, if Ahren had to guess, bloomed across his cheeks and down his body. “Was that a threat?” Their voice was low and dangerous, and something in Ahren’s abdomen did flips.

All of the instincts in Ahren’s head screamed that they were a drake, patrolling the perimeter of their territory, spitting fire and daggers onto anything that looked good enough to eat, wild and aggressive. Why was this Humanish, tiny enough that the top of their head barely reached Ahren’s shoulder, so unnerving to him? Why did the very thought of what they could do, what they surely  _ would _ do if given the chance, make a warm ache spread over him?

His hands were up, placating, trying to move as far back as the iron grip on his shirt would allow. “No, ah, you misunderstand me, I just—you—just—I am sure that you would prefer that no one see you in such a state of undress!” There was no doubt in Ahren’s mind that Marsh was only ever going to see him as a pleading fledgling now.

“Oh. I don’t give a shit, do whatever you want.” The hand let go of his shirt, and Ahren tumbled back unexpectedly, only just keeping his balance as Marsh took a few steps back and returned to their task like nothing had happened.

The door was closed. Ahren could get out, could escape this interaction, could hide in merciful silence in the bathroom.

“Ah, then, if you would please excuse me for a moment.” His words were a rush as his gaze nailed itself to the floor, unable to get out of that room fast enough.

Time snapped, and the next thing Ahren was aware of were his shaking hands, locking the bathroom door. Breathing. He had to remember to breathe. Breathing was important. In the mirror, his eyes looked like those of a wild animal, trapped behind a thin veneer of civilization. Feelings swirled inside him, how was he going to sleep in that room tonight, with that Humanish in the bed above him? How was he going to get up in the morning and face another day of travel with these people, these nudists?

“Maker.” His voice was filled with an emotion he didn’t dare consider.

Taking steps away from the mirror, trying to put as much distance between him and his reflection, Ahren’s back hit the wall. His wings caught on the wooden boards as he slid down, numb, knees tucked up as close to his chest as they could go. The linen of his pants graced the cool of his forehead, and Ahren noticed that he was still too cold to even shiver.

The only heat in his body came from the shame and embarrassment running through him, instituting a scorched earth policy on his insides. How could that human be so  _ comfortable _ like that, on display for anyone who just so happened to see them? Never even mind the fact that they were wearing  _ lingerie _ while travelling! Who did that! Their undershirt had been plastered to their skin from the rain, outlining the lean muscles of their back, the softness of their stomach… not that Ahren had been looking. He had manners. They were just screaming their personal business, exposed like that. Ahren hadn’t been looking.

He held that position for an amount of time. How long? Maker only knew. A knock on the door alerted Ahren to the world outside all too soon though.

It was Aidia’s voice that came through the wood. “Ahren? Is everything alright?”

He blinked slowly in her direction. “I’m sorry?” He hardly recognized his own voice.

“It’s evening and you missed dinner. I can bring you up something if you’d like, but there should be something in the kitchen too. Do you need some help? Are you injured?”

Help? No, he didn’t need help, no help at all. “I am perfectly fine!” He wished he sounded as sure and confident as he was trying to project.

“Mm. I see. I’m choosing not to believe that, considering that I have known you for all of six hours at the maximum and can tell that that is a lie. I’m coming in.”

The door was locked. There was a slight click of metal on metal, and it opened anyway. Aidia was leaning on the doorframe, and Ahren got a good look at her in actual lighting, not hidden under a heavy cloak and hood.

She was an orc (he thought, not that he had seen an orc in his life), and a light-yellow top hung over her shoulders. There was muscle on her, filling out her clothes in a way that Ahren didn’t. Black pants covered what would have been inappropriately exposed stomach and tucked into her boots, but there was nothing covering her arms. Oh Maker of them all, they were  _ all _ nudists.

Ahren stood quickly, clasping his hands non-threateningly behind his back. “I am completely and perfectly fine, Lady Aidia, now, if you would permit me to pass?” He avoided her eyes, no sense in being an annoyance.

She stepped back, palms up. “Sure, be my guest. We’re going to be having a group meeting in the room Holly and I are sharing, if you would like to join in. We’ll be discussing where to go from here.”

All Ahren could do was nod mutely. The last thing he wanted to do was aggravate anyone. He made his escape quickly, walking with the efficient stride of someone who didn’t want to make any trouble, ignoring the confused glance Aidia shot him as he disappeared down the stairs. A few deep breaths and a plate of food (Maker, he had been starving) later, Ahren could actually pay attention to what he was eating.

It was chicken, probably. An odd variety with deep red flesh, but it tasted like chicken. If it wasn’t, it was still the first real food he had had in months, and he wasn’t going to be the one to pass up a plate of hot meat over rice. Ahren felt the warmth of the meal outpace the shame, getting actual heat into his bones. The tea he was allotted soon followed, and Ahren felt all that much better, the fog of cold that made his thoughts sluggish burning away. As he finished his food, Ahren looked around for a place to put his used dishes. They couldn’t fault him if he put them in the wrong place if he didn’t know, right?

A younger man cleaning up a table nearby straightened up. “Oh, you looking for the wash?” His voice was high and reedy, not much lower than Ahren’s own.

“Ah, yes, I am.”

“Just give those to me then, thank you kindly.” He took the dishes before Ahren could pick them up. “You’re from the mountains, right?” He leaned forward, all smiles and curiosity. “Are you really young? We get dragons that pass through here sometimes.”

“I, ah, yes. I am, on both counts. Ahren of Jarra-Hzsii.” Dragons would stop here? In this nowhere town?

The man gave him a genial smile, but Ahren saw a double row of teeth. That wasn’t a humanoid characteristic. “Coriander, same last name. I’m a Humanish. Well, I mean, half-human, half-Humanish, but I think it just translates to Humanish? Anyway, nice to meet you!” With that extra bite of confusion, Coriander Coriander turned around with Ahren’s plates and disappeared.

Right. Okay. That was normal. Probably. With a deep breath, Ahren steeled his nerves and braved the stairs, listening to his boots against hardwood like he was on his way to his own execution. The murmur of voices from Aidia and Hollyhock’s room greeted him. It would be best if he sit in, if he were to continue with them. As someone laughed, Ahren knocked on the door.

“Come in!” Hollyhock, sounding like he was in a far better mood than when Ahren had last seen him.

Ahren opened the door to an orgy. Or the prelude of an orgy. Ahren might not have seen an orgy in his short time alive, but he was sure this is what one looked like. The three humanoids were all lying on top of one another, in the same small bed. Sweet Maker up above, these people really had no shame, lounging all over each other like that.

With his head leaning on Aidia’s shoulder and his legs tangled with hers, Hollyhock was by far the worst offender in relation to clothing. His top was cut so low that his collarbones were on full display, and his pants had been cropped to a scandalous mid-thigh. Clearly, he was the most… liberated… out of all of them. Marsh lay across their legs on their stomach, papers and maps scattered on their back, modestly covered up by dark blue fabric pants and a lighter blue shirt, both of which were entirely too big on them.

“I am deeply sorry, it seems that I have interrupted something.” Ahren turned and tried not to think too hard about just what he had stumbled into as Aidia called out.

“Oh, no. We were just going over some travel plans, would you like to join us?” What did he really have to lose? It wasn’t like he had any dignity to begin with.

“Alright then.” His legs took him to sit on the floor by the edge of the bed.

Hollyhock smoothed down part of the map on Marsh’s back. “You do know you can get on the bed, right?”

The offer sounded like it was meant to be tempting and friendly, rather than horrifying and unseemly. It was the thought of so much exposed skin, of such a compromising position that made a shiver run through him, despite the growing heat in his core. He had had enough of shame and embarrassment for today.

With a straight spine and a dignified expression, Ahren gave a cool response. “I am quite fine down here. To where would you all be heading next?”

It was Aidia that responded. “We were thinking of continuing along the footpath until this way station.” She pointed to a spot on the map, and Marsh gave a complaining groan.

“Describe it.” They whined. “I can’t see.”

“Marshmallow, it’s literally what we were just talking about.” Hollyhock patted their arm in a display of brazen intimacy. “Ahren, we were thinking of picking up a carriage here because we’ve got a bit of extra gold and it might be a good idea to cut through this part because there’s some rough terrain and the footpath is a bit winding while the highway isn’t.”

“That does sound like a good idea.” Ahren had no idea what they were talking about. There was a footpath nearby?

Aidia nodded. “I’m just a bit worried about passing through the Highwaymen’s Saddle like that.”

Marsh shrugged. “Oh no, a half-orc, a Humanish, a half-elf, and a dragon are in a carriage, they  _ must _ have expensive shit on them. We’ll be fine.”

Ahren was not soothed, but he wasn’t going to go against both Marsh and Hollyhock, and Aidia seemed to be content with that answer.

“Are you going to be coming with us, then?” Aidia let her palm rest on the back of Marsh’s head in a manner Ahren assumed Marsh found comforting.

“I—ah—if you all would have me?” Even with all of the chaos and behavior he had seen, it was far better to be with these people that knew what they were doing and where they were going. Ahren really didn’t want to try and figure out where exactly the capitol was and potentially get lost at sea.

Hollyhock waved his hand in the air, almost absently. “Why don’t we put it to a vote? All for Ahren joining us?”

Both Hollyhock and Aidia raised their hands.

“All against?” Marsh didn’t raise their hand. Hollyhock shook their shoulder gently. “Marsh, we’re doing a vote on whether or not Ahren’s joining us.”

They groaned, unhappy to need to be present. “What’d y’all vote?”

“We both said ‘yes’.” Aidia started to put away the papers, freeing Marsh to move around slightly.

“Then I say ‘yes’ too. I’m going to sleep.” They rolled over, shifting closer to Aidia and Hollyhock, burying their face in Aidia’s stomach.

Hollyhock happily clapped his hands. “Well, that’s that! Welcome to the group, Ahren!”

Ahren tried to match Hollyhock’s grin as Aidia clapped him on the shoulder. He nearly jumped out of his skin, feeling a heavy blush spread over his cheeks as the warmth of her hand was taken up by his body. The hand withdrew as she noticed his muscles bunching up in an effort to hold still, and a not-insignificant part of Ahren mourned the loss of the heat.

“Now, just a quick little interlude.” There was a smile in her voice. “We all check up on one another, so I’ve just got to give you a suggestion, okay? Get out of those wet clothes and into something warm and dry before you catch your death. You’re cold blooded, right?” Ahren nodded a bit numbly. “Then you can sleep in the middle so you don’t freeze.” She gestured to the narrow space in between her and Hollyhock, and Ahren felt his blood simultaneously run ice cold and boiling hot.

“I, ah, um…” Ahren cleared his throat awkwardly, getting to his feet. “I would prefer to sleep in my own bed, if that is quite alright. I fear that my sleeping habits would only disturb your rest. Now, if you would please excuse me, I will heed your request and change into something more appropriate. Thank you for your concern.”

Aidia shot him a confused glance, but, mercifully, released him with a parting sentiment. “Alright then, goodnight. Oh, and just so you know, we as a group have taken to talking to each other if there is something wrong. It’s so much easier than trying to guess, and we spend so much time around each other that it is better to talk about the issue, rather than bottling it up, don’t you think?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Aidia’s tone reminded him of his mother, and there was nothing Ahren wanted less than to displease her. “I do agree. I will not cause trouble for you. Thank you for welcoming me into the group, I greatly appreciate it, Ma’am.”

Hollyhock closed the space between the two of them and leaned his head onto her shoulder, yawning as she spoke, breaking the maternal illusion. “Just call me ‘Aidia’, sweetheart, I’d rather be friends. If you need anything, though, you just let us know, okay?”

“I—er—thank you.” This was not the response he had expected. “Goodnight to you too.”

With that, he turned and stepped out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. Ahren didn’t really know what to do with that, that kind of promise. No one had ever  _ offered _ to give up their time and energy for him like that. If he had to be honest with himself, it almost made him feel uncomfortable, taking advantage of Aidia like that. She was kind, that was the word for it. They all were, even if Marsh was a bit hard to read and Hollyhock defensive of his friends. It seemed like they had made accommodation into a habit.

Frankly, it unnerved him. What kind of people were they, the kind that handed out second chances like… like… something. There must be something wrong, some kind of trap. Maybe they were going to traffic him or—oh. Oh. They didn’t know he was a mutant. They didn’t know just how flawed and ugly and horrible he was. Ahren wasn’t an affront to their sensibilities.

Entering his room, Ahren finally replaced his clothes, which were leeching warmth from his body at an almost dangerous place (had he stayed longer, he would be worrying about collapsing onto their floor, and what kind of social damage would that entail), with soft, mostly-dry sleepwear. Ahren was exhausted, and the furnace had warmed the room so nicely, and he was only going to freeze if he took a bath.

The bed was almost too soft, far more comfortable than the one his mother had allotted him. Hopefully, there wouldn’t be any trouble going to sleep, these people seemed like the kind to wake up bright and early. They would likely not be happy with him sleeping too late in. Rolling over onto his stomach and slinging a wing over one side of the bed, he pulled the covers up. Wow. It felt amazing to not feel like his back was on fire from flying all day. Ahren made a note to let himself take more breaks.

Maybe this journey wouldn’t be mind-numbingly stressful. In a place this soft and this warm, Ahren allowed himself a smidgeon of hope. Sure, he was so late that his nightmares had stopped being about arriving at the palace and had been split between his mother finding out and his time in the cave, but that was normal, at least. Except for the cave. Ahren didn’t want to think about the cave. He was going to be okay. Just as long as he didn’t talk about himself. He could do this. He  _ would _ do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks, i have a tumblr! https://madrastique.tumblr.com/  
> liked the story? leave a comment


	14. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some patrons like to get to know their patroned, and some patrons like to be extra to their patroned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holly's Fae is one of my absolute favorite characters (yes, it has a name(s), shhhh) and i am *so* happy that its this chapter
> 
> Chapter Warnings:  
> None :3c

He was asleep, Hollyhock knew that much. A winding hallway stretched and distorted itself in front of him, almost as if it was swaying and rippling with waves far above. He was barefoot, standing in a foyer. The wooden floor wasn’t cold under his feet, even though the house around him looked like it had been abandoned for years, nature creeping in through the cracks, mold and water damage obscuring much of the paintings hanging along the wall.

Someone had dressed him in the most beautiful ball gown Hollyhock had ever seen, like if jade had been turned into fabric. There was a panel of embroidery down the front, complex and elaborate. He could make out representations of vines and trees framing the image of a person with scarab wings kneeling and picking a flower, a pool of blue under them.

Under the dress were several layers of petticoats, different shades of green, growing brighter the closer they were to his skin. They shuffled as Hollyhock moved, taking stock of himself. His hair was done up with cold metal and jewels and ahint of makeup hung heavy on his face. There was a necklace around his neck, silver and jade.

Around him, the world was tinted green, like looking through a window made of sea glass. Everything rocked slowly, like it had forgotten how to stay still, trying to decide where it would be best to put its weight. Walking forward, Hollyhock found himself following the rhythm of the space around him, swaying to an unknown song. Under his feet, the texture changed. Carpet. It was old, rot slowly overtaking it, but the image in the center was clear: a scarab-winged person sitting underneath an alder tree, holding their cupped hands up as water spilled out and formed a pool below them. It twinged something deep in Hollyhock’s heart, like he had been waiting for the longest time, like patience had taken him, shaped him, and wandered off from boredom.

Keep moving. One foot in front of the other. Music twined around Holly as he walked, playing like it had been waiting for him to notice it. There weren’t any words, just the strains of a violin and the pluck of a harp, but Hollyhock could hear the lyrics the same as he did the lullabies of his youth. A pale green sound drifted through the air, gentle and soft, tears falling for eternity, since eternity, until eternity.

**_How long, how long, how long._ **

It was supposed to be a duet, Holly could tell that from the gaps of silence between breaths, from the almost unheard machinations of metal, clocks ticking backwards, wings scraping on a too-small carapace. There was only rot and destruction in that quiet, in the pause between breaths too shallow to afford peace. Something deep inside Hollyhock told him that the song was still uncompleted, that when it ended, it would dig its fingernails deep into the cracks between reality and tug and tug and tug until everything came apart, ignoring the burning tears running down its face.

**_How long until the beginning comes._ **

As he passed by the paintings, he could make out people. Not people that Hollyhock knew, of course, but people, nonetheless. He couldn’t make out the species (were those wings? And there, horns? Did that person have  _ plants _ growing out of their form?), skin a myriad of colors. All of their faces were scratched out, no, not scratched. Shattered. Like the images were mirrors that someone had taken a wrench to. Spidery cracks radiated out, slivers of space falling out between the floorboards, lost forever.

There was a door at the end of this hall, Hollyhock noticed. It was old, and wooden, and broken down. It didn’t sit on its hinges properly, like something had flung it open one too many times and it had warped the wood or the metal inside. It hung open, resting against the wall, stopped by a golden doorknob that had fallen out, collecting dust. That was where Holly’s body was taking him, through this place of decaying, decrepit opulence, this realm of half-remembered, half-spoken, half-hoped thoughts and lives. Things here were only alive so long as they could keep themselves from fracturing under the heavy weight of the song fate (or was it Fate here?) burdened their shoulders with.

**_I gave them a piece, but they want it all._ **

Crooked nails caught the hem of Holly’s dress as he passed, trying to trap him where he stood. No. Fabric tore free from the rusting metal, still stuck in the splintering planks of wood at the edges of the floor. There they would remain, uncared for and unseen for a passage of time that could not (would not) be reconciled with the age of the world to produce a valid number. Dust rose in his wake, roused to life by his touch and brought to the brink of motion with his passage, stilling in the air as he kept his course, like it had forgotten the purpose of waking.

**_I showed them a crack, but they burn down it all._ **

Through the door was a bathroom slowly losing a battle against the ravages of nature. Mosses and lichens advanced steadily over the pale green tiles of the floor while saplings sprouted through a broken, overgrown window. They caught the few shafts of precious light that trickled into the room on their newly grown leaves, determined to survive to spite the snarl of roots that blocked any thought of egress and the old grown forest canopy far above them.

The sink was a cracked porcelain, drain choked with dandelion heads. The yellow blooms brushed up against the tarnished brass spigot, asking for water and asking for light and asking for nothing and asking for a chance to be what they were always meant to be. Something in Hollyhock’s chest told him that the pipes had long dried up, the only thing that would clatter out if he turned the spigots would be shadows of dust.

**_I lent them an ear, but the empire falls._ **

It was the mirror that dominated the room. It was silver, reflecting everything in a deep jade hue, warbled and watery. Growing spots of tarnish slowly spread stains across its surface. Set in a gilded frame, the gold was in the process of flaking off bit by bit, as if rejected by the wooden structure underneath. The sink and floor beneath it had already accumulated a fine dusting of golden flecks.

Hollyhock’s limbs moved on their own accord, taking him to the sink. His hands wrapped around the cool odd-white edge, leaning forward, into the mirror. It wasn’t Holly’s image that was reflected. No, it was the fae that he had summoned, the fae whose magic he now used. It stared at him, green holes glowing out of where its eyes should have been, heavy wooden mask growing into its face. Like a marionette, it mimicked his actions with rickety jerks, unused to this much movement.

**_It all falls. It all falls. It all falls._ **

Hollyhock’s mouth sang the words, dripping past his lips like a thick sap. It was perfect, horribly perfect, the flawless version of his voice. That wasn’t him. It wasn’t even a mockery of him. The fae in the mirror broke from its imitation, looking up at him in staccato shifts, leaning into its side. Without the silver separating them, they would have been inches away. Magic and knowledge that he never wanted buzzed around in the back of Hollyhock’s head, static burning cavities into his grey matter.

**Hello, my Little Poison.**

The words weren’t spoken in the air so much as burned into its mind. It was like there was an amplifier pressed right against Holly’s ear, turned up as high as it could go. The sound was almost deafening, if he was able to be deafened in his own dream, but it just left him with the onset of a headache and a ringing in his mind. Hollyhock’s scar burned like it was fresh. The ringing wasn’t going away. Could he get tinnitus in his brain? Was that a thing that could happen?

“What are you?” He hated how young he sounded, like a scared little kid. “What do you want?”

**I want that which is here, Little Poison.** It cocked its head to one side.  **Must I truly distinguish my feelings with choice, or is it merely enough to want without desire.**

“I feel like that’s an important distinction to make in this context, but sure. Whatever. So… nothing? Is that what you want?”

**It is what I** **_desire_ ** **, nothing. What I** **_want_ ** **is everything. I want everything.** Its body straightened like it was a puppet, being jerked on a string.  **I want to see everything, feel everything, hear everything, know everything. But, for the time being, I will be content with want alone.**

“Um, okay.” That wasn’t a satisfying answer, but it was better than most. “Where am I? Us? Are you even here?”

**This is where it is.**

“That’s not a real answer and you know it.”

It laughed an unreal laugh, one that bounced around Hollyhock’s head, across the world and back again.  **You are correct in that, my Little Poison. This is a place untethered from what you would call reality. It is a world made up of what I am, the same pieces create a different puzzle. I have given you a thing I was under the impression you would enjoy.**

“That I would enjoy?” Did it mean the gown?

**From what I have aligned, your kind enjoys colorful fabric, architecture, and complexity. I have even provided a variety of edible plants. You have been cared for adequately, no?**

Holly frowned, his brow furrowing. His head was pounding. “I wouldn’t call this well cared for. Why are you here? Why am  _ I _ here? Why can’t I leave?” Holly heard his voice rising, anger and fear amplifying off of the pain that ran through him like a fever.

The world pulsed, wood rattling in place, sunlight drying up. Cotton filled Hollyhock’s mouth, so thick he could chew it into a fine mash. Tendrils of darkness encroached on the edges of his vision and he tasted blood and ozone and bitter, bitter weeds.

“Just let me leave!”

He didn’t ask so much as demand. The fae in the mirror put its hands up, crossing them over its chest in sharp, broken movements. Silver shook and rattled in its frame; the dandelions turned their sunny faces up to Holly, still vibrant in the gloom. Holly’s eyes glowed. The fae in the mirror glowed. The dandelions glowed.

“Please, you’re hurting me.”

The world shattered around him, stabbing shrapnel coated in concern and apology into his chest. Hollyhock jerked upright in bed, breathing hard. It was dark, comfortingly so. The blanket was warm on his lap. Ahren slept quietly next to him, having put as much distance between the two of them as possible. He was on his stomach, chest rising and falling steadily, one wing draped over the side of the bed. It never ceased to amaze Holly how heavy a sleeper he was, that, or good at pretending to be.

Holly laid back down, trying to match his breathing, feeling his pulse slow to a more manageable level. He was okay, he was okay. The covers were warm, and the pressure calmed him, centered him. His skin smelled like bitter herbs distracting Holly from his valiant efforts to go back to sleep, to strike all thoughts of his recent dream from his mind. Rolling over and wrapping himself tighter in the blankets, there were no grabs from Ahren to take the fabric back. Holly didn’t know whether to feel bad that he stole the warmth or to be impressed at how Ahren didn’t stir.

His thoughts still bounced around his head like acorns thrown down a well, but, as he counted his breaths, they grew more sluggish, more easily controlled. Outside, rain tapped lightly against the windows, grounding Hollyhock, bringing him back to reality, giving him a pretty song to listen to. It was nice, and he  _ was _ tired. That was what lulled him back to sleep, the gentle sway of the world, a quiet lullaby, rocking him in his cradle from the beginning to the end of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks, i have a tumblr! https://madrastique.tumblr.com/  
> liked the story? leave a comment


	15. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for a break and some tomfoolery!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeehaw! It's Aidia time!
> 
> Chapter Warnings:  
> No warnings

They were moving at a pace that Aidia hesitated to call glacial, as glaciers at least had their moments of speed every century or so. Ahren was hurt in some way, and they all knew it. Of course, characteristic of his species, he wouldn’t admit it and Aidia was not impolite enough to ask outright, but she could see it in the way his hands trembled as he fiddled with the dagger he had strapped to his side, the way his wings shifted under his half cloak like any position they took was uncomfortable. It wouldn’t make sense why, though, they had all been walking for nine days, there was no reason for his  _ wings _ to be sore.

And then, there were the mealtimes. While Hollyhock and Marsh were content to eat as they walked and break up their meals into a day full of snacks, followed by a big dinner when they made camp for the night (like the three of them had been doing for their journey so far), Ahren insisted that everyone sat down for structured meals. He complained if they didn’t. The man was needlessly vociferous, but Marsh and Holly had caved to his demands. Aidia would not be cowed.

The man ate like he was starving constantly, devouring everything but mushrooms. Or anything that had touched mushrooms. He wasn’t allergic, though, he just claimed he didn’t like them. Of all the things to be picky about, a common, nutrient-filled ingredient being in one’s food while they were travelling was not a particularly wise one. Marsh accommodated him, as, with all of their specific rules to temperatures and textures and tastes, it was often better to let them be the one the cooked dinner.

What really bothered Aidia though, was how much Marsh and Hollyhock liked him. It wasn’t like Ahren reciprocated the affection, speaking to them in that same, infuriatingly formal register that he spoke to strangers in. Not that he spoke to strangers. Aidia was convinced that he didn’t actually have emotions and he was just faking them moderately well so that he was not evicted from the group.

At least Holly was a conversationalist, always introducing new topics of debate and discussion, happy to chatter away with himself if no one decided to engage with him. Even Marsh usually ended up participating, adding their own two cents to a sufficiently engaging topic. But no, Ahren kept silent, refusing to join in, despite all of Hollyhock’s encouragement and prompting. It was rude.

She couldn’t understand how Holly or Marsh could  _ stand _ him, with all that arrogance dripping off of him like he was single-handedly trying to flood the kingdom. He complained  _ constantly _ , when they broke for camp, he would lament his lack of a tent but balk at the mere suggestion that he join their pile on the ground. For the Creator’s sake, it wasn’t like any of  _ them _ had tents and they were perfectly happy to sleep on the ground or in a tree or on a bedroll, however they found themselves making a bed for themselves that night.

It might not have been her best moment when she let her frustration culminate after they reached the outskirts of a small town. Ahren looked like he was going to be sick from seeing all the signs of life, somehow turning greener. Sweat gleamed on his brow, and he fixed a tight smile onto his face, claws picking at the fabric of his half-cape.

“I feel that it might be best for me to sit this town out. It may not be… conducive to accompany you all in.” His voice shook. What a pity grab.

Hollyhock fell for it. Hollyhock actually fell for it like an idiot. Creator, did he not see this brazen mockery of a man that tried to play with his heartstrings in a barely disguised gesture tinged with disgust? No. Apparently, he didn’t. He gave Ahren a gentle smile and put his hand on his shoulder—he put his hand on  _ Ahren’s _ shoulder? What was going on? Ahren  _ hated _ people so much as brushing up against him and here he was, letting Hollyhock lay his hand on his shoulder through only three layers of clothing. The world had gone mad.

“It’s alright bud,” Holly said, like everything Aidia knew wasn’t collapsing all around her in flames, “we can just skip over this town if that’s okay with everyone? Or breeze through, unless there’s a reason we need to stay in an inn?” He arched his neck up, taking a look at the sky. “Doesn’t seem like rain, though, so…”

Marsh didn’t seem to care one way or another, simply shrugging. “I’m okay with whatever. I just wanted to see if they had a bookshop, but they’re probably too small.”

Hollyhock nodded. “I can run in and check, but that’s what the verdict looks like.”

“It’s fine then. I think we’ll be in one of the cities on the trail in a week or so, through the saddle. I’d probably find more books then.”

The attention then turned to Aidia, awaiting her opinion. She took in the nervous, cheerful, and mildly interested eyes watching her. Clearing her throat, she put on her adult voice. “I was actually looking forward to seeing what was in town and maybe even doing a quest.”

“Didn’t we  _ just _ do a bunch of quests in that bigger one a few day’s back? Storm’s Fen or whatever it was called?” Marsh frowned, trying to remember the math they had calculated for the money.

“It’s always good to have extra.” Aidia argued. She might be able to get a point in until they made their final decision. “We could also see what the local blacksmith has and get Marsh some new darts for their crossbow, so they don’t have to keep reusing the same ones. Oh, and food, we can see if there’s anything dried or salted that we can pick up, just in case.”

“Sure, but that doesn’t warrant spending the night there, and it’s going to be such a pretty night, think about it!” Alright then, it was clear that Aidia was not going to be getting much support from Hollyhock, and it wasn’t like Marsh had a stake in the matter.

With a sigh, she acquiesced. “Fine, at least we have the weather.”

Holly beamed like Aidia had just given him the world. Creator and Destroyer, she was going to drown Ahren. Why should they have to tiptoe around his discomfort like they were afraid of making him cry? What if Aidia wanted to sleep inside tonight—well, no she didn’t, Holly was right, it was going to be an absolutely gorgeous night.

“Alright!” Hollyhock clapped his hands together, happy as can be with the situation. “Let’s divvy up then! Since I was planning on going into town anyway, do you want to come with me, Aidia? We could trade for something.” With a grin, he shook the pouch of acorns he had steadily been accumulating. Why someone needed that many acorns, Aidia could not even begin to guess.

“Of course, Hollyhock.” She rested her hand atop his head.

“Perfect, Marsh do you want to go with Ahren to set up camp?”

Marsh nodded and Ahren drifted closer to them.

With the group sorted out, splitting up just before they entered the outer limits of the town (Ahren saw a sign declaring the town’s name to be ‘Hollow’s Glen’ and started picking at the scales of his hands like he was trying to dig his way to bone, causing Marsh to suggest they look for a place to break for a meal), Aidia and Hollyhock decided to visit the blacksmith’s first.

The two of them continued for a time, chatting idly about stuff and things, Aidia subtly avoiding the topic of Ahren while Hollyhock gushed about the cliffs that bordered the northern edge of the town with an unhealthy amount of excitement. It was situated in a quarry cove, Hollow’s Glen, with red stone cliffs reaching about fifty feet up. To the south was farmland. There was only one road that led off of the footpath and ended in town hall, no quest board, no blacksmith.

Hollyhock wasn’t bothered by this, though, still talking about the cliffs. According to him, they were exciting because they were very old. Aidia had been under the impression that most rocks were old, but these were extra old, she’d gathered. Holly’s explanation of their formation was that millions of years ago, there had been an ocean where they were standing and these rocks were all that remained of the original sandbar that had formed and that these were only visible because they were in the highlands. Apparently, the original crust of the world (or something along those lines, Hollyhock had lost Aidia several tangents ago) was at the top of the Moonraker mountain range.

There was also the added fact that Aidia now knew that Hollyhock’s father was a geologist. That made sense, actually, now that she was thinking about it. The man knew far too much about rocks and the geographic history of the continent and was more than happy to climb up to look at something that had caught his interest. Of course, he had a parent in the field of scientific research.

It reminded Aidia of the running bet between her and Marsh that she had begrudgingly let Ahren in on. There was skin in the game of which parent of Holly’s had been the elf. It was a serious question. Aidia thought it was his mother (Hollyhock had described her as a calm, stabilizing force in the family), Marsh claimed they were both half-elves, and Ahren had disagreed for the first time in his life and said that he thought Hollyhock’s father was an elf.

Either way, he had managed to turn the conversation around back to herself while Aidia had been trying to reconcile several millions of years’ worth of information that she now had no idea what to do with in her mind. The silence was her only warning that Holly had won the game of patience.

“So, why do you hate Ahren?” Oh no.

“I don’t?” She lied, hoping that her Destroyer would forgive her. It was for a good reason. Aidia just needed to find the reason. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her laugh was a touch too nervous.

Hollyhock didn’t buy it. He was smarter than most gave him credit for, Aidia begrudgingly admitted. He knew people well. “But you are, though. Why don’t you like him? He’s just trying to be nice.”

There were two ways to continue. Down one path, Aidia tried to weasel her way out of the question and risked Hollyhock’s distrust negatively affecting their relationship (bad, they were stuck together for another two months if neither opted to try their luck on their own), or, down the other, she could actually talk about her feelings and risk rejection. Or a positive effect on their relationship.

It made Aidia think of a sentiment she had heard once as a child, when she was almost too young to remember, when her mother had taken her out into the countryside. As the two of them crouched and crept through narrow halls, avoiding guards and patrols, there had been a man that had helped them. He’d given them a horse and, as Aidia’s mother had settled the three-year-old onto the back of the mare, he had given them advice: ‘Pick a god and pray’. So Aidia picked a god and prayed.

“I just…” She kicked a rock in her path, watching it as it bounced along the dirt. “Doesn’t it bother you how much he talks down to us? His holier-than-thou attitude?”

Holly shrugged. “Not really. You talk down to us too and that’s never been a problem.”

“I do not!” Her protest was met with a raised eyebrow.

“You were doing it an hour ago when Marsh mentioned how they were excited to see the stars and you said that we could always see the stars so tonight wasn’t special.” Okay, that might have happened. “And he’s just really polite and gets upset when he breaks decorum.”

“I didn’t think he  _ could _ get upset.” Aidia regretted those words the instant they left her lips.

Hollyhock sighed and that sound alone managed to twist Aidia’s heart into a painful knot. “He has emotions, Aidia, and he’s terrified of you.”

“What?” This was certainly news.

“Aidia, you’re well established in this group and he’s petrified that he’s going to fuck up around you and you’re going to kick him out to fend for himself! You haven’t spoken more than five words to him, he can tell you hate him.”

Hollyhock was serious.  _ Hollyhock. _ The person who smiled and laughed at the drop of a hat, the person who avoided silence like it was a plague, the person who wanted to keep everyone happy at any cost was being serious.

“The mushroom thing is weird.” Yes, it was a weak retort, but Aidia needed  _ a _ valid complaint.

“Remember when he mentioned that he got sick for two months?” She nodded. “Mushrooms were the only thing he could eat, so they make him super nauseous. I shouldn’t have to tell you someone’s life story for you to be nice to them, so cut him some slack. The man almost died getting here and you’re complaining that he’s too polite.”

“I… I didn’t know that.” He had a point. Unfortunately, Hollyhock had a point. “I’ll…” Aidia trailed off, thinking of something that would rectify the situation.

“Apologize? Behave civilly? You say you’re the oldest one here all the time, might as well act like it.”

“Marsh is older, Ahren too, I think.” Aidia was desperate to inject some levity.

That got Holly to think for a moment, taking the proffered olive branch. “Huh, dragons live pretty long, don’t they?”

“A couple of millennia, if memory serves, though I will admit I don’t know much about dragons.”

“Oh gods, neither do I.” Holly chuckled. “How old is Marsh.”

“They’re in their late forties.”

Holly sucked a breath in through his teeth. “Yep. Sounds about right. No one here’s allowed to have a normal age, nope. I’m going to wake up tomorrow with the mind of a fifty-five-year-old.”

Aidia had to laugh at that. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m twenty-five, though I don’t know exactly what that translates to in the human standard.”

A groan was the answer she was so generously given, followed by, “I hate that I’m the baby at twenty.”

“You  _ are _ the baby.” She patted his back, surprised at how sturdy he was.

As they wandered around town looking for something (anything) to do, they came across an ad: a musician wanted to see if someone could best him in a contest of chords. His wording. Lovely. The dates were set for the night before and this afternoon, in the middle of town square. This could be fun, it wasn’t like they had plans to do anything anyway.

Aidia nudged Hollyhock, tapping the flyer. “Why don’t you take him up on this?”

“I’m sorry what.”

“You play well, come on! It might be fun!” She tried to put that Hollyhock pep into her voice.

“Aidia.” He looked at her like Aidia had just suggested they gas the town and flay the children alive. “You  _ know _ what happens when I play.”

“You can’t be afraid of music your whole life, dear.”

“I can and I will be.” Holly’s hands flew to his hips. Adorable.

She softened her expression, nonetheless. “Just play, if you lose control, I’ll put a stop to it, alright? I promise.”

It took a moment for him to wrangle the thoughts flitting around his mind. “Fine. But only this once.”

“Perfect.” Aidia grinned. “Now, how are we going to kill five hours?”

“Want to see if there’s a tavern to eat in and chase things in the woods?”

Aidia loved him. “Spoken like a true hick, let’s go.”

There was, in fact, a tavern. It had outdoor seating and the best venison Aidia had ever eaten. In all seriousness, the meat was delicious. It was perfect. She spent at least twenty minutes talking about this steak. It was a really good steak. Hollyhock just laughed, finding it all to be quite hilarious and mentioning that one of his neighbors cooked a better one like Aidia wasn’t actively having a near-religious experience. Hollyhock was cooking venison next chance they got.

After that, the two of them found many things, in fact, to chase in the woods. They spent an almost embarrassing amount of time running around, in Aidia’s personal opinion, but it was fun, so who was she to judge. It seemed like Hollyhock had endless energy, always ready to run off after the next thing to catch his eye, not hunting, only chasing and whooping and laughing. His laugh was infectious, and soon, Aidia was also breathless and giggling, sun beginning to hang lower on the horizon.

By the time the two of them were trotting back into town, they were talking about nothing important, giddy and mirthful about some elaborate story they were telling about the clouds (there was a cloud war in the sky between the cumulonimbus clouds and the cirrus clouds. The cirrus were winning because of their guerilla warfare techniques). It was nice, not having to do anything, not having to pretend to be the most competent person in the world. Creator and Destroyer, Aidia had needed this, to do something light and inconsequential.

They found an elf in the middle of town, dressed in what looked to be his best (that is to say, a fancy vest, a button up, and slacks). He held a violin that had been painted black in his hand. Holly bumped against Aidia’s arm purposefully.

“Think that’s the guy?” He kept his voice quiet.

“Probably, who else would stand around in a monkey’s suit with a violin screaming his self-reported excellence like that?”

Hollyhock stifled his giggles. “I know, right? He’s really just screaming at the world about how insecure he is about his prowess, painting his  _ violin _ black. I mean, are those  _ red streaks _ ? By the gods, I thought  _ I _ had bad taste…”

It took all of Aidia’s will not to burst out laughing. “It will say, it does hint at some insecurities.”

“Well, might as well commend him for showing up.” Holly raised his arm, giving a big wave. “Oy! Elf guy! You here for the song fight or whatever?”

He whipped around to glare at Holly, and Aidia got a good look at him. Tan skin gave way to pale brown hair and pale green-grey eyes. His clothes didn’t sit as well on him as they should have, considering how nice they were. It was likely that he had borrowed from someone older. He was also doing his best to plaster a smile on his face as Hollyhock just smiled, unbothered.

“What if I am? I’m waiting for my competition.” Oh, alright. He was rude, then.

Holly grinned nice and wide, more a baring of teeth than a smile. “Then I’m your competition, bud! Hollyhock, nice to meet you.”

“Rolf. Pleasure’s all mine.” That much sarcasm was unnecessary, especially with the way Rolf looked Hollyhock up and down like a mutt. “Are we going to play, or what.”

Taking a step back, Holly swung his arm wide, marking out space for Rolf. “Be my guest.”

With a harrumph, Rolf got into proper position. As the song started, Aidia had to admit that he wasn’t as bad as his personality made him out to be. He was good, even. He was nothing compared to how well Hollyhock played, of course, but he knew his way around a violin.

Rolf’s song was a fast, taunting piece, made specifically to highlight his mastery of ricochets and vibratos. It was impressive, well-rehearsed. There had been some personal flourishes added, but it lacked the overflow of emotions that manifested in Hollyhock’s playing. It was fine, but, after listening to perfection, Aidia had been a bit spoiled. As it petered out, the crowd that had gathered clapped and cheered. Of course Holly and Aidia applauded too, it was polite.

As Hollyhock took center stage, Rolf gave him a look like he had already won. Holly just returned that cheerful smirk with one of his own, locking eyes with Aidia. She gave him a thumbs up. He could do this. Sliding his bass into his hands, Holly took a deep breath, calming himself, making sure he wouldn’t cast. And then, he began to play.

From the first sound, people were enraptured. The delicate, fragile tune that emerged from his slender hands was the product of great skill. It was even better than when he had played for Marsh and her, this was his magic working  _ with _ him. If his patron could hear him, Aidia was sure it would be proud. The song filled her with a profound longing, as if she were waiting on the precipice of something uncomprehendingly large, eager for the coming wave to break already and wash over her. Her breath caught in her throat and she was lost in the mind of another, living in their life for just a tantalizing hint of a moment.

There was a boy of indeterminate species, smiling and laughing, but, as the song changed to something faster, more desperate, the tentative and delicate notes transformed into something more concrete and driving. He began to change, growing into a man. Patches of multicolored darkness struck themselves across his face, his eyes filled with an ever-shifting static. And then, at the apex, the music halted at the edge of a cliff, trembling and swelling, bursting with the image into a million, million discordant parts, fragments of fragments of fragments, the littlest of which getting lost in the cracks of time and memory.

But, nevertheless, the song slowed, calming itself down, and Aidia was left seeing the world as Holly’s eye must see it, a rainbow of strings connecting people in every which way, everyone’s form altered into a pantomime of their actual selves. All the strings snagged on Hollyhock, who had ears like a dog and the legs of a deer. There were hands over his, guiding him, attached to a creature made of wood and leaves. It glowed green from the inside, joints articulated like a doll’s.

It looked up and saw Aidia, truly saw her, and a neon green tear dripped from one eye socket of the expressionless wooden mask it wore. As the song stilled, it lifted its hands from Hollyhock (who didn’t notice, like he hadn’t known it was there to begin with). Just before Aidia blinked and the world returned to all it was, the creature faced her and, in clumsy sign, said just one thing.

**_‘Thank you.’_ **

And it was gone. All of it, replaced by the world Aidia was so familiar with. People were crying, but the kind of crying when one didn’t know exactly why they needed to weep. Wiping his tears from his eyes, Hollyhock slung his bass back over his shoulder. As he took a bow, the crowd exploded into thunderous applause. It was clear who the winner was. There were offers to stay for dinner, Rolf still standing, stupefied but Hollyhock excused the two of them with the thought that their companions were probably waiting for them.

When they got back to the camp, Marsh and Ahren were waiting for them, seated next to the campfire with something cooking in the pot. Marsh had managed to teach Ahren a dice game they were partial to, and it looked like Marsh was wiping the floor with him. Poor thing, they had tried to teach Aidia the same game, but the most she had gotten was that the way the dice fell had different effects and that rolling dice was not a matter of luck but skill. Or something like that. It was a very confusing game.

“Can I play?” She sat down next to them.

Marsh shrugged. “Sure, we’re playing nine eyes.” She was handed dice and set to catching up her losses.

Ahren was losing by a fair bit, and Aidia wasn’t as good as she would have liked. Either she was out of practice or had never been all that good to begin with, but Aidia found herself unable to get the dice in the circles, never mind rolling the specific number that each circle required. Evidently, Ahren was not that bad, making up for the luck department in accuracy. For some reason, he was rather good at throwing dice into dirt circles.

Beside them, Hollyhock went right to bed, not even bothering to undress or wash up, just laying down face-first on the grass. He was unconscious in seconds, ignoring the bedroll in favor of dirt and chlorophyll. Ahren gave him the most sympathetic look Aidia had ever seen when he thought she wasn’t looking, eyes going soft and crinkling around the edges as he rose, draping a blanket over the half-elf and placing a jacket to function as a pillow under his head.

It was sweet, quite sweet. Aidia cleared her throat as he sat down and the look died, schooled into an expression Ahren had been taught was appropriate and respectful. He looked scared.

“So,” she started, trying to avoid thinking about the circumstances that would have led to  _ that _ being what Ahren was taught to feel, “how were your days?”

Marsh thought for a moment. “It was fine. Me and Ahren played breakbones and it was pretty fun even though we were missing a few cards—Aidia, at the next big town, we need to get a new set of cards—and then I taught him how to play nine eyes and all that. Oh, and we cooked and talked.”

“That sounds like fun.” Aidia smiled at Marsh and then Ahren, who tried to return the smile, keeping his head ducked down.

They continued to make small talk (well, Aidia would talk and Marsh would answer) until Marsh won the game, to no one’s surprise. Apparently, Marsh and Ahren had already had dinner, but that didn’t stop Ahren from getting some more soup as Aidia took her meal while Marsh got ready for bed. Ahren stayed up for a little more, he had a book he wanted to read and was going to use the light of the fire, unless anyone minded. No one did, of course, it would be ridiculous to get angry about something like that.

Marsh curled up next to Hollyhock and fell asleep quickly, leaving just Aidia and Ahren, eating and reading. As her stomach turned its contents over and over, Aidia found herself chewing on the inside of her cheek, rather than the potato chunks that still populated her bowl. She chased them around with her spoon halfheartedly, not all that hungry anymore.

“What’s your book about?” Aidia found herself asking, breaking the silence.

Ahren flinched at the sudden conversation, a flash of terror in his eyes as he shut his book closed as fast as he could, drawing his legs up into his chest. A pang of pain passed through Aidia’s heart. He just looked so young.

“I, uh, um,” his voice came in fits and bursts, “it’s about the court system of Galailan—I thought it might be important to know some more about the country I am in.” He shrank back as he spoke, tone falling softer and softer. It was like he thought making himself disappear would spare him from whatever punishment he was sure Aidia would inflict upon him.

She resisted the urge to sigh, electing to, instead, rearrange her features into a mildly friendly, mostly sympathetic expression. “I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot.”

Aidia thought it was an innocuous phrase, but it made Ahren go pale. She didn’t know that dragons  _ could _ go pale, but all the blood drained from his face and Aidia was worried that he was going to vomit. His eyes were round as he waited for an end he was certain was coming.

“I just wanted to tell you that I don’t hate you.” Aidia hurriedly continued. “I don’t hate you and I would very much like to become friends. I am aware that it may not be the easiest thing in the world, I can be headstrong and make snap decisions, but I am willing to take the leap if you are.”

“What?” Aidia wanted to drape a blanket over his shoulders, he needed some juice.

“Then let me be blunt: I’m sorry for the way I have been treating you. I do hope that you can forgive me and that we might become friends. “

That calmed him some, a bit of tension crept out of his shoulders and he let his legs creep down to sit in what must have been a more comfortable position. A bit of color returned to his scales and Aidia could see the shaking had lessened somewhat.

“Thank you, Aidia.”

He tried his hands at a smile, and Aidia’s heart melted a bit. It was like they were sharing a private joke. In a way they were, she supposed. They could make this work.

“You know, I happen to know a lot about the court system.”

Ahren tilted his head, not quite leaning forward, but willing to speak. “Really?”

Aidia breathed out a laugh. “You could say it’s one of my interests.”

And that was that, the two of them talking for far too long about politics and courts and the legal system. Funny how it was like that, that someone else would share her interest. It wasn’t like Hollyhock or Marsh ever complained, but they just didn’t have the stamina for three straight hours of talking about the legal code. Aidia had a lot to say about the legal code.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks, i have a tumblr! https://madrastique.tumblr.com/  
> liked the story? leave a comment


	16. Chapter 14 I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking a carriage through the Highwayman's Saddle, what a great idea!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey if the next few updates (excluding part 2 of this chap bc im not cruel) are delayed it's bc my college is closing and there's magnum corona in my county. here's hoping i dont catch anything!
> 
> Chapter Warnings:  
> \- Guns  
> \- Religion  
> \- Yeehaw pardner

The clatter of the carriage wheels was calming. Hollyhock might not have ridden in a carriage much in his life, only a handful of time, but it was soothing, like rain on the windows. He leaned his head against the window frame, watching the world pass by. Bass in between his legs, one thigh bounced absentmindedly as Holly thought of trees and shrubs and naps. Aidia rested her head on his shoulder, one arm in her lap, breathing slow and even. They had, despite everyone’s better judgement, elected to speed up their travels through the Highwayman’s Saddle. A carriage is faster, they had thought, and the less time spent in there meant less time worrying about the highwaymen in the saddle.

Across from him, Ahren looked out of the window too as Marsh napped next to him. He looked tired, at least, to Hollyhock. He waved his hand, getting Ahren’s attention.

‘You know sign, right?’ Better to use sign language to keep from waking everyone up to have a conversation. Holly made sure to sign slower than he did with Marsh, they were a lot better than most and he didn’t want to assume a fluency like he had with Aidia.

Ahren’s sign was clumsy, like he had been taught it in a month and never expected to actually use it. ‘Yes, I do.’

Hollyhock smiled. ‘Awesome! How much longer do you think we have?’

‘In this carriage or on this trip?’ Ahren worried at his bottom lip as he finished the sentence.

‘I meant the carriage. Trip’s going to be, what? Another two months?’

Ahren thought about that for a moment. ‘Maybe another few hours?’ He let the conversation drop for a beat. ‘What do you think the palace is going to be like?’

‘What do I think?’ Holly laughed quietly. ‘I’ve got no clue. Pompous? Fancy? I mean, I grew up in a small town in the middle of the woods, I don’t think I’m the right person to ask this question—wait, aren’t you a diplomat?’

Ahren glanced down, watching his own hands. ‘This is my first time away from home.’

‘Wait, really?’

Ahren gave him an odd look. ‘Why would that be such a surprise?’

All Holly could do was shrug. ‘I just assumed someone would accompany you or something. We get a lot of merchants where I’m from and the new ones almost always have a buddy.’

‘My family believed I could go it alone.’ Right, Hollyhock wasn’t going to argue with a face like that. ‘What are you most excited for, in the city, that is?’

Holly tapped at his leg. ‘Many things, really. I guess I’m going to be spending a lot of time at the Academy, so I’m looking forward to learning. Oh, and the food. I’m very excited for the food. What about you?’

‘The royal family.’ Ahren gave him a tentative smile. ‘I have heard so much about them, and I am looking forward to finally meeting—’

Ahren’s signs were cut off by a loud thump from the front and a horse’s whinny. Next to Holly, Aidia shot up, dagger already in hand, blinking sleep out of her eyes. Marsh jerked into wakefulness as the coachman shouted, crossbow cocked in their hands. Ahren’s first instinct was (wisely) to get a loaded crossbow to stop pointing directly into his neck, so he moved Marsh’s aim to the front of the carriage. Holly’s hands found his bass, pack already slung over his shoulders.

The carriage sped up as hoofbeats sounded behind them. A sharp left turn threw them into the walls. There was a gunshot. At times like this, Hollyhock very much missed his rifle. Belongings were scooped up as they all looked around. The carriage driver’s control over the vehicle seemed to wane to a startling degree. Right. Ahren tried to speak to the coachman but didn’t get a response.

Stabilizing herself with a hand on the ceiling, Aidia’s voice carried over the din. “What’s going on?”

“I know just as much as you do.” Hollyhock shrugged as Ahren looked out of the window. He ducked his head back in quickly and the occupants of the carriage heard another gunshot.

“At least five highwaymen. They have guns.” Ahren sounded nervous, hands fiddling with a shortsword that Hollyhock was almost convinced he didn’t know how to use.

Less out of a desire to be rude and more out of stress, Hollyhock found himself snapping at the dragon. “Yes, I think we gathered that.”

With uncanny grace, Marsh gritted their teeth and moved quickly, rising from their seat. They crossed the narrow, shuddering strip of hardwood quickly and easily, like they were walking on land. If Hollyhock was a tad more religious, he would have sworn that he felt the influence of Goddess Loralei guiding Marsh’s limbs like a concerto. Holly offered up a quick prayer to Her anyway (Great Aunt of the Gods may we move as you do and avoid the tears of Jazidan; Bless us and Keep us, Goddess Loralei), they would need Her ephemeral grace if they wanted to survive this. He might not have been a religious man, but he didn’t want to die like this.

Sticking their torso and crossbow out of the window, Marsh fired off a dart as the wind whipped through their hair. Quick as a viper, they snatched themselves back inside, sliding themselves onto Ahren’s lap, ignoring the suddenly blushing dragon doing everything in his power to avoid touching them more.

For their part, Marsh either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Four, now.” They slid a new bolt into their crossbow and cocked it, still aiming at the window.

Aidia nodded sharply, getting to her feet “Holly, cover me and I’ll take the reins?”

“Here’s hoping.” Holly’s feet took him to the door.

He flung it open, pulling himself up onto the roof to avoid the gunshots somewhat. The carriage was a beat in his ears, polyrhythmic and ever shifting, but a beat, nonetheless. Life flowed through his limbs, bringing him to a state far more alive than living things. Holly was a kite on the wind. Holly was a sparrow on the breeze. Holly was a leaf in a gale. Holly was on top of the carriage, bass in hand.

The song he played would have been accused of being too slow if it was someone other than him. Underneath him, Aidia threw herself to the reins, coachman nowhere to be found. Probably abandoned them the second he saw the bandits. The horses resisted her efforts until Holly wove them into the spell of his song. Marsh had hauled themselves up between his legs, shooting potshots at their pursuers. Beneath it all was Ahren. Holly could feel him moving in the carriage, trying to get up along with them, useless at this range.

It all stopped suddenly, the stability, the advantage, the song, at the sound of metal impacting bone and the sound of Marsh screaming like someone had just been murdered (had he just been murdered?). His vision blurred and something ached deep in his skull. Wetness stained his shoulder. There were hands on his limbs, gripping tight enough to bruise. This wasn’t how Hollyhock wanted to die. That would mean he still hadn’t left the rural stretches. Distantly, Hollyhock was falling. Did his shoulder hurt? What happened? Why?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks, i have a tumblr! https://madrastique.tumblr.com/  
> liked the story? leave a comment


	17. Chapter 14 II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our pure and noble heroes have to get themselves out of this mess, don't they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lets not get corona gang 2020 yeehaw. there's a quarantined town 25 min from my house. we livin the real apoco life
> 
> Chapter Warnings:  
> \- Religion  
> \- Panic  
> \- Concussions  
> \- Slightly offscreen death  
> \- Public nudity  
> \- Damn we have a lotta warnings for this one dont we

Aidia dropped the reins as she heard Marsh scream. Marsh never screamed, not like that. It was a chilling sound, like they had become a banshee, wailing out a decree of death. It filled her blood with ice, and, as she turned, she could see Hollyhock, now quiet, lose his balance and start to fall. She leapt to her feet, catching him in her arms. Blood was blooming on his left shoulder. This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all.

Behind them, there were still four humans on horses. Gaining. Guns. This wasn’t manageable.

“Marsh, we _have_ to run.” She shouted over the din.

Looking over their shoulder, Marsh nodded harshly. A pound on the roof got Ahren’s attention. A bullet impacted the wood, hardly an inch from his face. He didn’t flinch, eyes trained on Marsh, waiting for their command.

“We need to jump!” They shouted, and Ahren, pale and frightened, swallowed his fear and nodded.

The carriage swayed menacingly as the horses splayed out in terrified confusion, leading the wheels into the drainage ditches on either side. The speed fell off, leaving them as sitting ducks in an unstable lake. It was this instability that took Ahren’s footing, throwing him into the other side of the carriage. Marsh shouted something that was lost to the wind, and Aidia saw them take a running leap, over and off of the carriage. She watched as they landed badly, one ankle twisting painfully under them as they fell, cursing all the while.

Aidia was next, Hollyhock heavy in her arms. There was a green tint to his eyes, like he was still casting, dead to the world. That couldn’t have been good. What did it look like if someone died while casting? Was his patron going to kill them all? Take his body? Who even _was_ his patron? The rustling of the leaves roared in her ears as Aidia got her footing and let her body soar. The Wanderer guided her through the air.

 _Like a bird may I fly,_ she prayed, _by my Wanderer may my wings catch the wind_.

She landed easily, almost feeling the glide of feathers over her skin. In her arms, Hollyhock moved his mouth in soundless words, limp and unresponsive. His pulse was steady, though, and it looked like the blood was beginning to clot in his shoulder. The flow had stopped, at least. Aidia pressed him closer to her chest as Marsh struggled to stand, wincing as they put weight onto their ankle. Already, the deep blue of bruising was starting to make itself seen.

All that was left was Ahren. As he got ready to jump, Aidia could see his claws digging into the wood, splinters getting stuck in his palms. He threw himself into the air anyway, wings spreading on instinct. One got caught on brambles as he landed, but there was no noise of pain as it was jostled. Clumsily, he stood, folding his wings against his back tightly.

With gentle hands, he picked up Marsh, trying both not to hurt them and to preserve their dignity (or, well, whatever they thought was their dignity). Marsh, on the other hand, was furious. Anything that could’ve hinted at mercy if one tilted their head, squinted, and put on their spectacles had turned tail and ran at the sheer firestorm of Marsh’s emotions, at the deep vein of anger they had mined just for this occasion.

As they shifted in Ahren’s arms, all of them learned a few new phrases, most notably, what Marsh was going to do to and with the highwaymen’s body parts, orifices, and remains. They also opted to highlight some of the sexual deficiencies of the highwaymen’s mothers. Much to Aidia’s surprise, Ahren didn’t even blink at that, merely hoisting them over his shoulder as their pursuers stopped, looking out onto them. There was a shout, and Ahren sprinted away into the woods, Marsh growling orders.

Hollyhock was a dead weight in her arms. Oh no. Oh no indeed. He blinked slowly (did he have a concussion? How could he have sustained a—rubber bullets. They were using rubber and conventional bullets. This wasn’t good. Aidia draped one of his arms across her shoulders, trying to pick him up. Creator and Destroyer above and below give her the strength she needed to do this.

Running for a few steps proved all Aidia could manage before it became too much.

“Ahren!” Aidia was going to die. She was going to throw up and die. Ahren, far ahead of her, paused and turned. “Wait for us!”

Setting Hollyhock down, she did her best to support him. He stumbled a bit, and that was progress, even if his face was screwed up in confusion and focus.

“What’s happening?” The slur to his words was not good.

“We need to run, okay?” Aidia tried to soothe. “Let’s catch up to Ahren and Marsh, right?”

With a delayed nod, he took a few clumsy steps, and the two of them got into a rhythm. Yes, it was slow, but, soon enough, they had managed to follow Ahren and Marsh. Holly mumbled things to Aidia that she couldn’t make sense of—something about bark and glass and dandelions?—that was abandoned in favor of another line of thought, one that began with apologizing to someone named ‘Juniper’ and promising that he wouldn’t tell anyone and ended in a language Aidia certainly didn’t speak. That was a problem for later.

For now, though, Marsh was still snarling out words that Ahren was politely ignoring. The click of the crossbow’s safety disengaging, though, that got everyone’s attention. Holly’s head snapped up, a ring of green glowing along his iris, eyes locked onto the weapon. Marsh’s aim was true, despite having a running dragon for a platform. That was evide nt from the scream of pain and the triumphant look on Marsh’s face, not because Aidia turned to look.

The footsteps behind them abated as they made their way into a clearing. Ahren stopped, panting hard.

“What are we going to do now?” He looked at Aidia as Marsh squirmed in his arms.

Catching her breath, Aidia took stock. She hadn’t failed yet. They still had a chance. Hollyhock couldn’t make it far like this and Marsh couldn’t walk at all.

That left Ahren. “You’re a dragon. Don’t you have, I don’t know, a bigger form?”

“I—um—yes—but—” He looked like she had just asked him to strip down in front of all of them. In a quieter voice, head lowered, Ahren added some information he deemed crucial. “It requires that I not be wearing clothes, as they do not shift with me.”

She had just asked him to strip down in front of all of them. Fine. No matter. “But you could take all of us?”

“Y-yes, but—”

“Ahren, we don’t have a _choice._ ” Maybe her tone was harsher than she meant it to be, but the last thing Aidia wanted to do right now was to stand here like sitting ducks and argue.

His face rearranged itself into polite obedience, and, when he spoke, Ahren’s tone was deadened. “Alright. If I may have some privacy.”

Marsh was set down onto the ground with their back to him. They let their attention and crabby mood be focused onto their ankle, which was clearly swollen and turning purple.

“Of course.”

Aidia felt a twinge of guilt, but turned herself and Hollyhock around, murmuring comforting things to Holly that she herself didn’t hear, trying not to pay attention to the rusting fabric behind her. The hairs on the back of her neck rose as Ahren’s breathing was replaced by something far larger. Hot breath billowed around her and the sound of something shaking its limbs out notified her that it was probably safe to turn around.

“Holy shit, you look cool.” Marsh twisted around, blinking with big eyes.

An expression that could have been a mollified laugh passed across Ahren’s face. So this was what he looked like in his Draconic form. He was big, but what did Aidia know about dragons? Ahren must have been eight feet or so at the shoulder, small enough that Aidia could probably hoist herself atop him if she so pleased. He was indeed green, though, with pale scales covering his belly. Two large, curving horns sat atop his head, crowned by a smattering of smaller ones at their base. His long tail flicked against the ground impatiently, eyes averted.

Ahren laid down, presumably so that they could all get on. Helping Hollyhock up was easy, at Aidia’s prodding, he settled himself blearily into a divot between Ahren’s wings. Marsh was easy, too, they allowed themselves to be lifted up to sit astride Ahren’s neck. As she picked up Ahren’s pack, clothes and boots stuffed inside, Aidia took a spot between her two companions.

“Can you talk like this?” Marsh had leaned their body over his neck and had forgotten about the pain in their ankle long enough to start asking questions. May Ahren’s gods give him mercy, Marsh’s questions were an ordeal in and of themselves.

“I can.” Ahren’s voice sounded deeper, more rumbly. His mouth didn’t move, though. “It’s some kind of magical effect. Is everyone ready?”

There was a chorus of assent Holly mumbling something as everyone else spoke, and Ahren rose, wobbling just a bit under the added weight. Behind them, Aidia was aware of his long tail, whipping close to the tree line, trying to provide some stability. His large, black claws scraped against the stones poking out of the dirt as he tried to find a good position to take off from. Aidia grabbed onto Hollyhock when Ahren flared his wings out.

They were _huge_ , easily as long as she was tall. The pale green membrane had been stretched across four digits, a little claw on the elbow jutting out. Those gigantic wings flapped and the wind they created blustered around them. And then, Ahren began to run. His heavy footfalls shook Aidia’s bones, but it was quickly replaced with the nauseating feeling of her stomach flipping, no longer beholden to gravity.

Ahren was flying, _they_ were flying. Hollyhock gasped behind her, aware enough to be impressed, and Marsh was laughing, asking a million excited questions. Creator and Destroyer keep them, they were flying. Oh, they were flying. This was incredible. The blue sky went on so far, it was the most beautiful thing Aidia had ever seen. The land fell away below them, the tops of the trees becoming a green carpet. This must have been what gods saw when they looked down upon the creatures that served them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks, i have a tumblr! https://madrastique.tumblr.com/  
> liked the story? leave a comment!


	18. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marsh can kiss the boo-boos better it's ok

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dont got corona yet but i *am* quarantined, yeehaw~ as my lovely fiance and editor said in his notes for this chap, "yeeeehaw we’ve taken the first big step towards dragon dick" and i love him so much! all yall romo folks: just hold tight till ch 17 i promise i gotchu ;)
> 
> Chapter Warnings:  
> \- ouchies  
> \- socially awkward dragons  
> \- dragon sex talks  
> \- dragon dick  
> \- long-suffering medics  
> \- "show me yours and i'll show you mine"

Everything hurt. His muscles, his scales, even the very tips of Ahren’s horns sagged with utter exhaustion. Throwing his pack down onto the desk that had been provided to them by the inn, Ahren seized upon what little privacy he had now. Marsh was in Aidia and Hollyhock’s room, fixing their ankle and their Hollyhock. Now was the perfect time to take off his outer layers and kick off his boots, with no need to worry about propriety when he was alone.

Luckily for him, they had been granted a room with two beds. There wouldn’t be any of his usual uneasy sleeping, doing everything in his power to keep from accidentally brushing up against whoever was next to him. He fell forward onto the bed, undershirt rumpling against the fabric. In a vain attempt to loosen up the knots in his aching back, he stretched a wing over the bed and—oh, nope. Nope, he was going to stop moving while he was ahead.

The door opened and closed, but Ahren didn’t bother looking. He was half naked, true, but right now, the pain and stiffness in his bones was far worse than any punishment or judgement he might receive. They were nudists, anyway, it wasn’t like they could fault him for trying to be a little more comfortable after they rode him for several hours.

Limping footsteps alerted him to Marsh’s presence. Just Marsh. Alright, that was fine. The sound of boots being pulled off and the rustle of bedsheets let Ahren know that they were laying on their bed. Turning his head to the side (and tuning out the way it made his neck burn), Ahren could see them from his new vantage point, lit up by the warm, golden light of a flame flickering through the stained glass of the crystal lantern provided to them.

Marsh was reading, they had settled with their giant medical book in their lap and a pen in their hand. How they had managed to get a reservoir pen was beyond him, but they had one nonetheless, and were using it to mark up the page of the book with new facts and diagrams as they saw fit. How the entire book hadn’t been made into one big illegible mess was anyone’s guess.

Suffice to say, Ahren wasn’t staring. Of course, he wasn’t staring. Staring was rude. It was just that the blanket they had draped over their legs framed their form in such a pretty way, a pale beige against the deep red of their fabric sleep pants that peeked just so shyly out from under the covers. How could he stop his eyes from tracing the lines of Marsh’s sturdy, stable fingers, one hand writing in their book and the other fidgeting absently with coppery strands of hair that looked so soft to touch. Not that he was going to touch. That would be rude. Ahren wasn’t going to be rude.

Golden eyes flicked to his green ones, and Ahren let his gaze drop with a mumbled ‘Sorry’.

“Is Hollyhock going to be alright?” He heard himself ask. Conversation was polite.

The shadows around Marsh’s face made them look ethereal, not of this world. “Yeah, just a concussion. Me and Aidia are going to wake him up every couple of hours to make sure he isn’t going to get worse, but I’m pretty sure he’s going to be okay. Just a bit achey and cranky for the next few days, so we’re going to take it easy on him.”

“Ah, I see.” Ahren tried to push the blush out of his cheeks. “I was unaware that head trauma could have such severe consequences.”

Marsh blinked and gave Ahren one of those looks that he had gathered to mean that they were surprised. “Head trauma can be serious, have you had a concussion before?”

“Not that I know of.” Probably. Hopefully.

As he attempted to shift to a position more conducive to speaking, something twinged sharply in his back and a gasp slid out of Ahren’s mouth. His arms buckled, sending him back down into the bed. Marsh was up in an instant, wobbling slightly, concern clearly etched into their features. Their book had been abandoned on the bed, pen pushed between the pages like a bookmark. Weren’t they worried that it was going to spill?

“Are you okay?” Their voice was calm, but they were already limping to his bed.

With a nervous laugh, Ahren tried to put on his most okay face. “I am perfectly fine, just some lingering soreness.”

“I can help with that.” They leaned their weight onto his mattress, making the bed dip. “I  _ am _ a medical professional.”

He shouldn’t—he  _ couldn’t _ —let a person lay hands on him. It would be so indecent. Inappropriate. They  _ were _ a medical professional. Ahren’s pulse spiked at the very thought of Marsh’s warm palms and deceptively strong fingers on his scales. The fire that fueled his shame had already been lit, fluttering uncomfortably in the base of his stomach.

Even still, he settled down, as if covering his face with his pillow in a vain attempt to asphyxiate himself would give him some dignity back. “I wouldn’t want you to inconvenience yourself.” It was a weak excuse and they both knew it.

“It’s not. Can I help?”

“If you’d like.” His stomach flipped. It was fine. Humanoids did this all the time. They were a touchy-feely species. This was normal for them. Calm down.

“Okay.”

The bed dipped further as Marsh hopped on, straddling Ahren’s lower back. The pressure and the warmth bordered on intoxicating and it took every shred of willpower to keep from sighing into his pillow. They would most likely stick to the humanoid parts, right? That was what they were familiar with and they might feel anxious about dealing with his more Draconic parts. His thoughts were stalled when Marsh’s hands skipped along his shoulders and down his back, gentle around the joints where his wings attached. There was no pain when they did it, no claws to catch on scales. They paused, hands going over the base of his wings again.

Right, he should probably say something. “You don’t have to worry about those if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s not that.” They tried to ambulate the limb and Ahren felt pain radiate down his back. “They’re dislocated”

“Is that so?” Ahren said through gritted teeth.

“Here, let me fix it. There wasn’t much about dislocations and actual treatments, but there was a lot about anatomy so I can figure it out.”

That didn’t sound promising. Marsh took his wing in their hands and lifted up, pulling and tugging in a way that was a tad painful, if controlled.

“Just relax, okay, relax.”

Their voice was soothing and easy, Ahren found himself obliging. His wing popped into its socket with some pain and then—oh,  _ oh, that was nice _ .

Ahren couldn’t help the groan of relief that fell out of his mouth as those warm hands spread comfort, easing the pain. They did the other wing, and Ahren, for the first time in weeks, could actually feel the tips of his wings. Folding his wings lightly against his back, Marsh sat back.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” Sneaking a look, Ahren spotted a slight smile on Marsh’s face.

He didn’t trust his voice enough to speak, instead nodding.

The balance of weight on his back shifted, and Ahren felt hands on his shoulders. Their touch sent skitters of gold up and down his spine as those blessed fingers dug in and kneaded knots he didn’t know he had. Ahren’s brain went blank, breath hitching, scales no doubt darkening with a heavy blush. Maybe it would be okay to let himself enjoy the feeling of being at the center of someone’s attention and not being beaten to within an inch of his life, even if it stirred that swirling current of shame bubbling through him.

His shoulders felt better than they had in years, and Marsh was slowly shifting their focus down his spine, working a kind of magic Ahren hadn’t considered could actually be real. The pillow did serve to muffle some of the sounds that he was making, the chirps and trills and clicks that were as new to him as they were to Marsh. This was a special kind of torture, and Ahren couldn’t help that his torturer was one of the best in the world.

Marsh, oblivious to Ahren’s ongoing mental breakdown, hummed a song to themselves, a slow rhythm, maybe a lullaby of sorts? Pleased with their work, they scooted further down his back, a dense, heavy heat, and oh,  _ why _ hadn’t Ahren relented sooner and succumbed to the indecent wiles of these humanoids? Yes, it was indecent and brought emotions and feelings into his body that he still hadn’t figured out the cause of.

“Better?”

Ahren blinked, stirred from his thoughts, trying to find his words. “Yes, very much so, thank you.”

“Want me to keep going?” A hand scratched lightly between his wings, the very spot that Ahren couldn’t reach without trouble. Was this what he was missing? Was this why humanoids enjoyed the company of others of their kind so much?

He tried to keep the drool contained to the pillow. “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”

“Of course not.”

When Marsh leaned their weight into his lower back, Ahren lost the ability to feel embarrassed, all the thoughts in his head replaced by just the repetition of how good this felt, of how good it felt to be taken care of. Quiet chuckling brought him back to the world, Marsh above him, soft bed below him. Shame burning within him. Ahren stiffened up, maybe this wasn’t such a good thing, maybe he wasn’t meant to be doing this.

A warm palm pushed his head back as he tried to lift it. “Let me take care of you.” Well, an order was an order. He let Marsh hold him down. “Feels okay?”

Ahren didn’t trust himself to respond, but, as Marsh squeezed his sides with their knees, Ahren’s words were rushed out of his mouth. “Yes, it feels nice.”

“There’s so much tension here.” Knuckles dug into a spot at the base of Ahren’s spine and it was all he could do to keep the whimpers that threatened to expose him in check.

“Well, I, ah,” Their hands worked into the muscle, making it hard to think, “I have never done anything like this before.”

Those blessed hands leaned forward, stretching out their torso and leaning their form on their elbows, planted on either side of Ahren. The heat was intoxicating.

“Really?” They were saying, as if Ahren could stand to pay attention. To them, it was an innocuous question.

Why was this such a big deal? “I have never had anyone touch me in this manner.”

“Huh. It’s really common for us, me, Holly, and Aidia do it all the time. Is being touch repulsed a dragon thing?”

“Touch repulsed?”

Marsh nestled into Ahren’s back, clearly enjoying being able to share his personal space. Ahren was sure he had seen them do this with Hollyhock and Aidia before, was this a thing that friends did? “When you don’t like being touched by people. It’s different from being touch  _ starved _ , though.” They drew back, and Ahren’s soul ached for the warmth. “Most people derive enjoyment from physical touch.”

As if to prove their point, they raked their nails down Ahren’s spine. Ahren would rather be burned at the sake than repeat the noise he just made as his back arched and  _ something _ deep inside him wound tight. Marsh’s hands came to rest still at his sides as they sat up. Even without looking, the tension in the room was palpable.

“Are you… are you getting off on this?”

There was no right answer to a term he didn’t understand. “I am clearly still on the bed.” Hollyhock used humor, right? That was an acceptable response, right?

“Are you, um, aroused by this because that wasn’t my intent and I can stop, and I can—” They cut themselves off. “I didn’t mean to.”

Ahren could have this conversation. It was okay. He could do this. “Um, all of this is new to me. The emotions, the noises, the feelings, everything, but I am open to it. This is a common bonding ritual among your people, yes? And I am willing to undergo this… thing. I’ll ignore the embarrassment and shame I have been taught to feel at my lack of self-control and endeavor to do better.” And now for the most important question. “May I ask, is this sex? Have I done it correctly?”

Mash sounded like they were warring with their emotions so much that everything averaged out into a clinical tone. “No, we aren’t having sex. I was giving you a back massage.”

“Oh.” Ahren shifted on the bed and  _ oh, hello, that was a new and nice feeling in his abdomen _ . “It feels nice.”

“Yeah, most people like physical touch.”

“If this isn’t sex…” Hopefully, they would understand the implication.

Marsh sat back on the edge of the bed, crossing their legs, letting Ahren sit up. “Have you never had the sex talk?”

As he sat up, a deep green blush sank into his scales at the implications. “I was not aware there was a talk.” If he didn’t make eye contact, they would be less cross. Probably.

“So, sex is an activity between two or more people that can lead to reproduction. Um, traditionally, a penis is put into a vagina, but it can be a mixture of vagina, penis, hands, mouth, and ass. It’s fucking. One of the meanings of the verb form, at least.”

Oh, so that’s what that meant. “What’s a penis and a vagina?”

Marsh raised an eyebrow. “Let me get Hollyhock.”

“Wait what why.” This was the worst-case scenario.

“Because I know for certain he has a dick. Slang for penis. It’s just easier to see than to describe.” They sounded like they’d aged five years over the course of this conversation.

His next thought was so shameful. Ahren was going to crash and burn right out of the sky. “How do I know what I have, then?”

The response was slow and careful. “You take off your pants and check. I think dragons have internal genitalia, right? The females have ovipositors and males have dicks and egg channels, whatever that means.”

“Yes. I believe that is correct.” Ahren obliged them numbly. He was stripping. With a nudist. Ahren. Well, they must have seen it all already, right?

“There. That’s your penis.” Marsh gestured to between Ahren’s legs.

There was a new organ there. It was ridged, rigid, and a pale green, slick with some form of lubricant and emerging from a slit that, until this point, Ahren had not registered as being anything of import.

“I have never seen this organ before in my life.”

There was actual shock in Marsh’s face. “How have you never seen your own dick before?”

“I don’t know!” This was ridiculous. “What about you? What does  _ yours _ look like?”

As they took off their pants (oh, right. They would need to strip for this. Ahren politely turned his head to the side and closed his eyes), they explained a few things. “I don’t have a dick. I have a vagina. I think. I’m weird because I started off with nothing and grew a vagina during puberty. It might be a Humanish thing, I don’t know. You can look, you know. That’s  _ why _ I took off my pants.”

Ahren spared them a glace. Oh. Okay. That’s what a vagina looked like. Humanoids had more body hair than he had expected. “So, sex is an… intimate activity.”

“Yeah, it is. You ask consent before doing it. Put on your pants or don’t, I want to finish your back. It’ll bother me if I don’t.” They shimmied back into their sleep pants, tying the strings together at the front in a loose bow.

Putting his pants back on, Ahren did as they asked and rolled over, allowing them to resume their work. As they put their hands on him, Ahren cleared his throat.

“What if, ah, I, um, accidentally…” He ducked his head into the pillow, unsure of  _ what _ he could accidentally do.

“What, get off?” They sounded so blasé about this all. “I don’t care, take care of yourself if you need to. Not my pants and not my bed, just don’t get any on me.”

This was horrifying. “Any  _ what _ ?”

“Oh, right. When you reach climax, that’s called an orgasm or getting off, sometimes called ‘coming’, you release fluid from your penis. It’s called semen, or cum, or nut. There’s a lot of slang. Just clean yourself up afterwards.”

The tips of Ahren’s claws scraped at the pillow lightly. “I see.”

As Marsh worked, Ahren let himself be beholden to the actions his body wanted to take. He felt desperate, whimpers muffled as capable hands actually touched him without revulsion. Was this what humanoids were like amongst themselves? Was this what he had been told to stay away from? This feeling of being exposed and laid bare to another?

It seemed far more unseemly, but Ahren didn’t bother to care about that as his hips ground down like they had a mind of their own. He felt almost… wet? Like he had just emerged from a river, but only between his thighs. Fine, sure, new feelings, new feelings. New feelings making something tighten in his stomach as he bit his lip hard enough to bleed and his vision flickered and—oh. Oh. This is what they meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have a tumblr! https://madrastique.tumblr.com/  
> liked the chapter? leave a comment!


	19. Chapter 15 Intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [intermission before ch 16]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heads up, ch 16 is long af

Gods fucking damnit. Marsh was going to bed. Nope. Not dealing with this today. Not having the sex talk with the dragon. Not their job, not their problem. Nope. Goodnight.


	20. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's go to the big city!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in some exciting news, hopefully i'll be able to tell y'all next week that book 2's first draft is done! i just have a scene and a half left! i might try and get out a bonus scene, and keep an eye out for that bc it's going to have more info on my next project (i'm writing a spin-off in between books 2 and 3 as a fun break and i need help deciding which!), but it probably won't be book 1 related (yay for side characters!)
> 
> Chapter Warnings:  
> None  
> Funky Cities  
> Non-standard fantasy races

“How old was that map again?” Holly broke the silence, craning his neck up to squint at the gigantic towers and spires far up above their heads.

“I have no idea, I traded a merchant for it.” Was the reply.

The map in question had marked a city here in the middle of the cross-continental footpath, at the very edge of the Plainlands. There was indeed a city here. The  _ issue _ in question, though, was that the city was ringed by curving spires of an unknown metal, the entire population gone. It was completely deserted, like nothing had disturbed it in eons. A maze of skyways connected towers that seemed to scrape the sky, hidden from view by a watery field of some sort of magic, strung like fabric between the spires.

“This has to date to before the Second Sun.” Aidia laughed, breathless with wonder.

Ahren shook his head. “At  _ least _ from the Fire Rain Years. Look at that, do you think there are runes in it?”

“That’s millennia at least.” Hollyhock felt small, like an ant on the surface of the planet. “Tens of millennia.”

Marsh tugged on Holly’s sleeve. “Are we going through it? Because the map says that there’s a causeway through it and it’ll take forever to get back onto the main path.”

“We  _ did _ decide to take the offshoot to save time.” Aidia hedged, glancing at Holly and Ahren.

Ahren shuffled his wings anxiously, shifting them like he could find a more comfortable position if he just tried every single possible one. “I do not believe we have much of a choice.”

“Right.” Hollyhock nodded, brushing up against Aidia’s arm as he hesitantly started forward. “Let’s find it then.”

There were mumbles of conversation, everyone more predominantly engaged in taking everything in than actually speaking as they started down the path. Under their boots, the ground turned from packed dirt to silver tile as they passed through the ring of spires. It was unnaturally clean, not a trace of soil on anything inside the city, not even their footprints left mud on it. There was just a thick layer of dust over everything.

The longer they spent inside it, the more Holly noticed how quiet it was. It was like their footsteps had been swallowed up by the city, their words unnervingly loud in comparison. There was no birdsong, no scurrying of little animals. There wasn’t even any wind. It was like the outside world had been blocked off for longer than living memory. Under the silence, though, he could hear a deep, steady hum coming from below the streets, almost as if he was imagining it.

Around them, buildings loomed like teeth inside the maw of a great, unknowable beast. They were made of the same silvery metal that they were walking on, tall, windowless structures stretching on for half of infinity. There was no sign of outward damage, but, in the distance, they could see breaks in the skyline where things had most likely fallen or crumbled. The streets were wide, with two ledges wide enough for three people to comfortably walk abreast on either side of a slightly depressed path, tiled in off-grey with a stripe down the middle so white it almost glowed blue.

Along the edges of the ledges grew the only plants Hollyhock had seen inside the city spires. They were grasses, if someone had taken all of the wildflowers and natural variety out of it, just the same thing over and over. It disquieted him, seeing strips of it lining the walkway, a sterile thing meant to mimic the natural world. Someone had cut every blade to the exact same length, that, or it had been made to grow that way. If he was being honest, Hollyhock didn’t know which was worse. When he tried to point it out Aidia nodded at him, her own hackles rising.

It was a ghost town, the great machinery of a long-lost era still churning, deep in the pit of the underground, forgotten and abandoned. The city hadn’t realized that, it seemed. The entire place remained, clean and sterile (if a bit dusty), nothing out of place, the shrubbery left as it was, waiting for its inhabitants to return. There was no sign of a struggle, either. No military action, no riots, no famines. Everyone had simply gotten up and walked out, never to be seen again.

Some buildings had their doors open, if you could call them doors. It was closer to an oval-shaped hole cut into the wall in the vague height of a person. A little smaller, maybe, but still person sized. Aidia or Ahren would have to duck, but Marsh wouldn’t have a problem at all. Maybe the people who lived here were naturally small? Was that a thing that could happen?

Peeking inside the buildings, Hollyhock found that many of them still had furniture. Sure, not furniture he recognized, but it looked kind of like furniture, and it was on the floor and inside and looked like  _ someone _ could sit on it, probably, so it was furniture, right? Was that the definition of furniture? A throat cleared behind him as Holly took a step through one of the holes. Jumping out of his skin, he turned to find Aidia behind him, looking at him with disapproval.

“What happened to no graverobbing?”

“This isn’t graverobbing.” Hollyhock kept his voice down, even though there was no one to hear.

“Don’t steal from houses!” She hissed, and Ahren and Marsh turned to look.

“I’m not stealing!”

“You’re trespassing!”

“No one’s been here for centuries!” This wasn’t even like going out into the burned stretches to see if there was anything left to scavenge, no one even knew this was here.

Ahren’s voice broke through their argument. “Um, I think I found something weird.”

He was at a street corner, pointing to something just above his head. As Holly and Aidia approached, they could see symbols were carved into the wall, precise and perfect lines with no hint of tool marks. Looking around, Holly noticed all of the street corners had that, markings cut into the sides of buildings. He didn’t know what language it was, he couldn’t even guess. The script was alien, with its exact lines and calculated curves.

And then, Marsh looked down and found the footprints. There must have been millions of them, sets overlapping and overlapping and overlapping, making an unfollowable tangle of paths. They were all made by the same boot, though. All of them were identical, completely so. Size, shoe, wear, it was like someone had taken a stamp to the dust on the ground. Next to one of the buildings, someone had drawn something in that same script through the dust, handwriting messier that the carvings.

Someone had been here. Someone had been here thousands of times. Someone had walked through these empty, silent streets, read the signs and peeked into buildings. The footprints seemed to start and stop in random places, like the person had been picked up or placed by the gods themselves. It was creepy as shit and it made the hairs on the back of Holly’s neck stand on end. He  _ needed _ to know more.

“What the fuck.” He whispered under his breath.

Aidia shook her head. “I couldn’t begin to know.”

A trail of footprints broke away from the pack and led around the corner of the building, ending at the wall. It would be a waste not to see what was going on with that. With a wave to make sure everyone followed, Hollyhock strode over, investigating the flat surface of the wall. As Aidia, Ahren, and Marsh crowded around him, he noticed that there was some writing etched into the tile. It was rougher and clumsy, like someone had done it without the proper tools, desperate to get the message out.

A sharp intake of breath from Aidia made their heads turn.

“I think it might be an incredibly old form of Solaqen.” Her fingers brushed against the letters.

Hollyhock let his brows draw together. “You know Solaqen?”

“My mother taught me, but I’m not sure if I’d be able to parse much out of this.”

Marsh’s hand snaked out, brushing against the wall as Aidia slowly translated. Below where Holly’s attention had been fixed on was a handprint made out of turquoise-colored tiles. It was small, like it was meant for a child, just four feet off of the ground. What sent a shudder through Hollyhock, though, was that it had seven fingers, fingertips and palms done up in a light cyan color.

“Alright, I think I might have it.” Aidia spoke right next to Hollyhock’s ear, making him jump. “This is  _ really _ old and I might be wrong, and there are a lot of forms in here that I don’t recognize but I think I might have a rough meaning.

“‘This here place is a message. A message in a something—the word might be ‘chain’ but it could also be ‘prison’?—of messages. The message here in this place is of a protective quality. This place is not a good place. There is nothing of value here. There is a danger here. The danger is here as it was here when I was. The danger increases in the heart of this place. This message is a warning of this here place.’” Aidia finished, taking a step back so that others could see it.

“Hey Aidia?” Marsh piped up. “Can I ask a question?”

“By all means.” Came her reply.

“What does that even  _ mean _ .”

“Well, ah,” Aidia struggled to explain it, gesturing a bit with her hands like that would help, “there’s a complex case system in modern Solaqen and they used a lot of pointing words for this place, so I tried to translate that. There was also a weird amount of repetition, like it was meant to be read by foreign speakers.”

Before anyone could do anything, Marsh darted forward, pressing their hand to the tiled handprint. It glowed a bright blue, light emanating out from under their fingers, and, without warning, the ground below the four of them opened up, the pitch-black abyss swallowing them. Understandably, Hollyhock and Aidia screamed as the floor-turned-ceiling closed behind them. The walls lit up in a similar shade as the print.

They weren’t falling through this sea of blue. Well, they  _ were _ , just not as fast as they should have been. Ahren had flared out his wings in anticipation, but he hadn’t needed to flap them at all. It was like the four of them had been suspended in the air, slowly being lowered from the ground far beneath them. Distantly, Holly realized he was wrapped around Aidia’s arm in a vice grip, fingers digging into her muscles.

“Hey, hey, hey. What the  _ fuck _ is happening.” Holly rambled, mouth moving without much input from his brain, refusing to let go of Aidia.

Marsh, who was currently fastened tight around one of Ahren’s wings (and not caring about how much the dragon was blushing from this sudden onset of physical contact), popped their head up. “I touched the thing.”

“Why did you touch the thing!” Distress crept into Aidia’s tone as she scooped Hollyhock into her arms, pressing him close to her.

“It was blue and weird and touchable!” They defended themselves, perched on Ahren like a gargoyle.

“Guys.” Ahren tried to interject, to no success.

“So you  _ pressed _ it?” Aidia was choking Holly a little bit with how much she was compressing his chest. “We are in a city from the Creator and Destroyer only know when! What if it was a trap!”

“Why would they put traps in a city?” Holly mused quietly, more talking to himself than anyone.

Not quiet enough for Aidia to not hear, evidently. “I don’t know! What if there was a siege!”

“Guys.” Ahren tried again, a little louder.

Marsh ignored him. “There were  _ no _ signs of siege or warfare!”

“Wood rots.” Holly suggested.

“Guys!” Finally, Ahren got everyone attention.

“What?” Aidia snapped and Ahren flinched.

“The ground is coming.” He said as they hit the ground.

It wasn’t a hard landing, but they had been unprepared for it. Aidia stumbled and fell, spilling Hollyhock out onto the ground a little ways forward. Beside her, Ahren was able to stay on his feet while Marsh scrambled up over his wings to sit on his shoulders, unwilling to be on the ground. It wasn’t a fight anyone wanted to pick right now and, despite how scrawny Ahren was, Marsh still weighed almost nothing.

That wasn’t the important part right now, because there was a person standing over Hollyhock. They were short, a few inches less than Marsh, if Hollyhock had to guess. He was frozen, though, sitting on his ass and staring up at a random person that had emerged from tunnels underneath an abandoned ancient ruin and was currently looking down at him from behind a mask with glass covers for the eyes. Those glass covers were currently glowing with an amber light, boring into him and his nervous grin.

“Aidia, Aidia, Aidia, Aidia—” Holly tried to scoot back, reaching his arm out in the vain home that someone, _ anyone of the three people behind him please _ would help him up.

The person followed, coming closer into the blue light. Where they had only been lit by that eerie yellow light, they were cast in harsh shadows from the glow of the not-lanterns. Their clothes were dark and close-fitting, reflective yellow lines running down their form. Sparing a glance back, Aidia and Marsh had frozen in place as Ahren folded his wings in against his back, holding onto Marsh and taking slow steps back.

Hollyhock managed to stand, getting his hands up and backing away. “Hey, hail and well met, right? Aidia, you speak… uh… this language.”

“I do no such thing.” Was the quick reply.

The person spoke something that sounded vaguely familiar to Hollyhock, though he couldn’t place it. Aidia returned in something that was much more familiar, though he still didn’t know from where. It was weird, like there was the hint of a memory in the back of his head letting him know he was forgetting something. That wasn’t the pressing concern right now.

“She’s asking what we are, I  _ think _ . I’m not all that sure, it’s a dialect I have never heard and it sounds archaic.” Aidia pulled Hollyhock close.

Ahren stopped backing up, blinking at her. “Where did you learn to speak Solaqen?”

“I picked it up somewhere, that isn’t what the important part is right now. What do I tell her?”

“People?” Marsh offered. “Have you tried people?”

“Dragon? Half-elf and half-orc? Humanish? Is there a word for Humanish in Solaqen?” Holly volunteered.

A shrug preceded Aidia’s answer. “They are all the same word, but with different tones.”

“Why is it like that?” Marsh’s nose wrinkled in frustration and confusion. “Doesn’t make sense.”

Shushing them, Aidia spoke what Holly assumed to be a translation, and the person replied, a hint of what might be frustration in their tone. Aidia tried again, and the person inclined their head forward, jerking it up like they were pointing at something. When they spoke again, the consonants seemed harsher and more brittle. And then, they took their mask off.

Oh. This explained the species confusion. Hollyhock had  _ no _ idea what she was. Her skin was the dark grey of ash, with white patches dotting across it. It was almost like vitiligo, if vitiligo was paper white enough to look monochrome. Their eyes though, that was what made Hollyhock freeze in place like a prey animal. Where their eyes should have been white, they were pitch black, pupil-less irises burning and glowing a rich orange-gold color.

Their nose was almost flat, covered with parallel-running ridges of thicker skin. Holly wondered how they breathed. It was currently scrunched up somewhat, though Holly couldn’t tell with any certainty what emotion they were trying to convey. As they spoke again, Hollyhock noted that their teeth were a dusty blue-grey and, inside their mouth, a thin forked tongue was the same shade of navy as their lips. Dark grey hair was quickly covered up by the hood they pulled up over their head.

As Aidia regained her composure, she let everyone know the conversation she had just had. “Alright. She said that she doesn’t know what we are and that we need to leave. Maybe. Or she’s threatening us. I don’t  _ know _ what she’s meaning to say, but she keeps telling me to ‘bring the all of us back to the unbecoming’. I think that could go either way.”

“What the fuck.” As Ahren convinced himself to join Aidia and Holly where they stood, Holly couldn’t resist a little outburst.

“Ask her what  _ she _ is.” Marsh suggested, getting their notebook out and starting to sketch.

Obliging them, Aidia and the woman (apparently, she had a very androgynous figure) had another exchange.

“She said she’s something called a ‘kidae’, her name might be a number.” Aidia shrugged. “If I’m understanding everything properly, I think her name might be a number, because she keeps saying distorted numbers and pointing at herself. Three-nine-six-six-four, if that means anything to anyone.”

With a shrug, Hollyhock turned to the woman and pointed to himself. “Hollyhock.”

“’Alei’ag.” Close enough.

“Yes,” he smiled, “Hollyhock.”

Aidia introduced herself in the person’s language, along with Ahren and Marsh. The woman said something, and Aidia related that they were going to follow her, which, in Hollyhock’s humble opinion, could lead to something bad happening. As the woman gestured for them to step into the dark, Holly noticed that her hand had six fingers. Cool. Alright.

“Ask her how to get out.” Marsh balanced themselves on Ahren’s shoulders, hands resting on top of his head. “It’s creepy down here.”

Creepy wasn’t the word Hollyhock would have used. Creepy implied abandoned villages and graveyards. No, down here there were exposed pipes stretching across the ceiling and faintly glowing blue tubes of… something… hung down just above their heads. There were no seams in the walls, no places where they attached to each other. It was all the same monolith of grey, like it had been grown from the soil that way. The floor turned from a flat expanse of metal into off-white tiles, streaked with dirt.

As they followed the woman, Holly noted that she didn’t make any noise when she moved, and, after Aidia translated some of Marsh’s complaints, she let out a sound that was closer to a bark than a laugh, almost like two pieces of metal were scraping against each other in her throat. Her response (that Aidia politely translated) cleared nothing up.

“She says something along the lines of ‘the great danger in the far above is why you must return. It is not to be felt down here.’ I don’t know what that means.”

“Nothing up there but an empty city.” Marsh grumbled, flumping down onto the top of Ahren’s head.

Aidia shrugged. “I know just as much as you do.”

The woman looked like she had just had an idea. She held her palm out, fingers curled back, to Hollyhock and spoke to Aidia. Her face fell in a grimace, and she turned to Holly, resting her hand on his shoulders possessively.

Through gritted teeth, she bent to speak in Holly’s ear. “I am  _ so _ sorry to convey this to you, but she wants to know if she can touch your ears.”

Fuck no. “Fuck no.”

“I will just let her know it’s rude to ask, in that case.” She straightened.

Conveying that to her, the conversation died. The woman tilted her head forwards and backwards like she had an extra joint in her neck and led them further through the tunnels. No one else passed them in the gloom, and no one asked anything more. It was when Ahren almost went down the wrong hairpin turn that she barked at them more harshly, warning them about something called ‘The Beast’ that her people guarded.

It was enough for Ahren and Marsh, but something clicked in Hollyhock’s brain. Several questions interpreted through Aidia later, he was able to determine that ‘The Beast’ was a creature that slept under the place under the city (the woman had called it the ‘Kidae-orokkhodii’, translated to ‘Final Stronghold of the Kidae’ by Aidia) and was the source of the rumbling that had been steadily growing louder as they walked.

The woman was more than happy to talk, explaining that her population was mean to keep the Beast alive until ‘Those Who Blind and Deafen’, whoever those were, returned and did something that Aidia rendered as “made the ceiling of the world rip apart with light”, so, they had that to look forward to, apparently. As Aidia and Holly asked more mildly invasive questions about her culture’s history, the woman led them to another chamber, similar to the one they had landed in.

Now that he wasn’t panicking, Hollyhock could appreciate the architecture better. There was a large dome that gave way to a hollow cylinder, ringed by a circle of light. Those same blowing blue lights that they had been seeing were here in a greater concentration, marking the walls in steady lines. A complex circle of intersecting lines was carved into the ground. She motioned for them to step into it and wished them well. As she strode over to the wall, out of the circle, there was another handprint embedded in the wall. Pressing her hand into it, the tile glowed that same blue, activating.

The room lit up in blinding light, and the woman hissed as she pulled the mask back over her face, trying to shield her eyes. The four of them called out their goodbyes and thank-yous as a feeling of slightly nauseating weightlessness filled them. Dust and light streamed down all around them, and, in Hollyhock’s ever so humble opinion, feeling sunlight on his face after being underground for as long as they had been was one of the most pleasant things in life.

It was a short trip up to the surface, and they found themselves on the opposite side of the city as they had started. Evidently, the woman had understood when they had said that they wanted to cross to get to the footpath. It must have been pretty old as she knew what it was almost instantly, despite having lived down here all her life.

They found themselves at a large intersection, and Marsh was set down onto the ground. A giant causeway stretched over their heads to their left, dominating the sky. They could still see the road they had followed into the city initially. It apparently crossed the entire settlement in a straight line, from one end of an offshoot of the footpath to the other.

As they walked, still quiet, Hollyhock resisted the urge to poke around the wreckage of a building that had been high enough to scrape the sky, now lying in a rubble pile and obscuring part of the road. Most of the smaller debris was still there, as if it hadn’t rained in this city in eons. Above their heads hung a net of skyways, high up in the air like the largest spiderweb in the world.

After about an hour or two of walking in complete silence, the four of them made it out of the city just as the sun was beginning to sink below the horizon. The spires of the ruined city shimmered back into the old growth of the forest, the last remnants of the ancient wood that had stretched across the Plainlands. There was nothing but tree trunks and forest canopy behind them, like nothing had been built there at all.

They made camp, still quiet, Aidia lighting the fire while Holly and Ahren started on clearing out the sleeping area. Once the fire was lit, Marsh started up on the cooking, getting a stew going in the collapsible cauldron. The river still ran close by, so Holly took the liberty of refilling everyone’s waterskins and washing up before dinner.

Returning to silence, he figured it was time to break it. “So, that was cool.”

“I thought it was creepy.” Marsh replied.

“Creepy, yes, but in a cool way.” Aidia added.

Ahren just shrugged. “Why do you think that city was there?” He adjusted and readjusted his wings. “The footpath can’t be  _ that _ old?”

Gods, what did Holly know about the footpath. His dad had mentioned that it was referenced as a landmark a lot in archaic texts, but he hadn’t paid much attention to it. “It might be. The footpath  _ is _ really old, maybe those are the people that built it?”

“And maybe it’s from a time before. The people under it knew it well.” Aidia supplied. “Marsh, what did the map say the city was called?”

“Um,” they wracked their brain, “Ur-Dochas.”

A look of confusion passed over Aidia’s face. “That isn’t the language that the woman spoke.”

Holly and Ahren shrugged. What do you say to that?

“It isn’t one that I happen to be familiar with.” Was what Ahren settled on saying.

Holly let his mind wander, only half paying attention to the conversation Aidia, Ahren, and Marsh were having. It wasn’t like he had much to contribute, they were talking about languages they spoke. All he knew himself was Trade, a whistling language his deathparents had taught him, and Ilvoni (though it was a Northwest dialect). Nothing exciting, just the normal skillset of someone from his town. Nightshade, though, that was a person who knew a lot of languages. They were the de facto translator of town.

Slowly but surely, his thoughts turned to the dragon next to him. Ahren, in Holly’s opinion, was a soft person. Not that he’d touched his scales enough to know for certain, but he  _ seemed _ soft. The man was strong and warm and touchable, and it was slowly killing Holly to keep his hands to himself. But, here he was, all of them having pushed their bedrolls together (except for Ahren) and using them like a large bed.

“What about you, Hollyhock?” Ahren’s question made Hollyhock’s head jerk up, suddenly paying attention.

This probably wasn’t a yes or no question. “Huh?” He asked, like the idiot he was.

“What language family do you think ‘Ur-Dochas’ belongs to?”

There was some familiarity with the sounds. “Well, I mean, ‘Hurr’ is a prefix in one of my local dialects, and ‘ch’ is a pretty common phoneme. We have a place in one of our stories called ‘Hurrdjechza’, and that means ‘promised land’.” He shrugged. “Maybe  _ they _ moved out west too.”

Aidia’s eyebrows raised like she hadn’t expected Hollyhock to know more than one language. “I thought it might have been a liturgical language, but you may have a better explanation.”

“I mean, I’m no language expert, I just had a friend who loved learning about languages, so I absorbed a lot of knowledge that way.” Gods bless Nightshade for never shutting up about the history of Ilvoni. “I’m probably wrong anyway.”

Ahren shook his head. “That is so interesting. Did you grow up speaking a different language?”

“Oh, um, yeah.” Holly laughed almost nervously. People didn’t take to his natural accent well the further east he went. Not everyone was a fan of the Northwest Territories’ separatist movement.

That didn’t matter to Ahren, evidently. There were stars in his eyes. “Do you have a different name in it? Or do you name your children in Trade?”

No one had asked him that before. “I do. People have two first names, one in Trade and one in the local dialect. Family names are inherited and are from an old version of Trade. So my name in my village would be ‘Hollyhock Enomh Kenning’, but most people call me either ‘Holly’ or ‘Nomh’.” He shrugged. “But it’s not a big deal.”

“Does ‘Enomh’ mean anything?” Gods was he flirting with him right now or was he just a language nut?

Ignoring the way Aidia shot him a knowing look, Holly tapped his fingers against his thigh. “’Holy’, or ‘Saint’, but the second meaning comes more from Ilvon, so it’s not a very accurate translation for the region, considering we don’t have saints. A bit on the nose, because I’m Holly Holy, but my mother liked it and my father was always a fan of puns.”

Ahren smiled. “It is a fitting name.”

Two could play at that game. “That is  _ such _ a sweet thing to say,” Holly smiled widely leaning into Ahren’s personal space, “does ‘Ahren’ mean something interesting?”

“Oh, ah, haha,” he leaned back slightly, one hand moving up to pick at the scales along his jawline, “my mother always told me it means ‘not violet’.”

Aidia blinked, clearly confused. “Correct me if this is how I learn that I’m colorblind, but you  _ are _ green, yes? I know my colors, right?”

“Yes, I am green, Aidia, you know your colors.” Ahren’s tone was soothing and Hollyhock had to stifle a laugh.

“Were you supposed to be?” Marsh piped up from the stew, tasting what they were cooking and adding more salt.

A nervous laugh prefaced Ahren’s words. “I do not know. My mother is a red dragon, and my father blue. All of my sisters are shades of purple.”

“You have sisters?” Hollyhock dug around the food pouch for some bread, lifting up a stale loaf triumphantly. This would be  _ delicious _ in the soup.

“Yes, I am the youngest of seven.”

Aidia choked on her waterskin. “Your mother gave birth to  _ seven _ children?”

“…male dragons are the ones who bear and birth live young…” Ahren looked at the confused faces around him. “Is that not the same with other humanoid species?”

“Okay, let’s have  _ that _ talk later!” Holly clapped his hands together, a silent sigh of relief easing the tension. “Tell me more about your sisters!”

Ahren was more than happy to accept the change of topic. “Well, the eldest is Kzrah’t’t and she married a yellow dragon woman named Prryhs around the time I was born, but they moved out of my mother’s territory, so I never spoke to either of them.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Aidia and Marsh exchanged a look with him. Right. Okay. No one was going to address it and that was okay, Ahren was going to keep talking. And that he did, rambling about his other sisters (who had, apparently, given him his tasks when his mother was out, whatever that meant). His family gave Hollyhock a bad feeling, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end in distrust.

From what he heard, Holly didn’t like them one bit, not when Ahren breezed over not being able to leave his house until two and a half months ago or laughed about learning to police his tone so that he was always respectful. It was horrifying to Hollyhock, who had been raised by his dogs almost as much as his parents and would regularly be free to do what he wished, provided that he helped out around the house when asked.

Okay, it was time to stop the conversation as Marsh started to pour the stew into the bowls and hand them out. Ahren’s shoulders had started to tense up and it was better to avoid a panic attack. There was a moment of silence as everyone ate, Hollyhock forgoing utensils because this was  _ basically _ soup and you could drink soup so you could drink stew. He wasn’t going to use a spoon to drink his food like some kind of child.

Ahren took his lead, drinking his stew like a normal person as Aidia looked on in horror. Proper manners were argued about, Holly chalking it up to the two of them being raised differently as he signed his answers back. It was still rude to talk with your mouth full, so why not use his inside voice. If it was acceptable table manners for Holly, why shouldn’t he do it? He didn’t complain when everyone else did their little cultural things, so why should he adjust when Aidia and Marsh were allowed to do whatever made them comfortable?

The argument ended with shrugs and Aidia laying off. After they finished their meal, the four of them washed up in the river, cleaning out the last of the scraps in their bowls. Hollyhock’s suggestion of a bath was shot down by Aidia and Ahren, who, horrified, exclaimed that the water was freezing. Of  _ course _ , it was going to be a bit cold, the water was coming from the mountains, it wasn’t like someone was going to be heating it up for them. It would fix joint pain and inflammation anyway and help with some of the aches of travelling, but who was Holly to force a bath on someone. At least Marsh joined him.

They returned to camp slightly damp and cold. While Aidia complained, she still joined them in the sleeping pile, Marsh curled up against Hollyhock’s side and Aidia at his back, her arm thrown over the two of them. Ahren didn’t join in, bedding down a few feet away. Poor thing. This was how people were  _ meant _ to sleep, in one big pile. Holly didn’t have nightmares then, and he woke up rested. It was calming, to have someone next to you.

Even still, as the crickets and night noises tuned their strings and the fire crackled in the pit, Holly felt tired and sleepy. The warmth radiating off of Marsh and Aidia was calming, relaxing as their breathing slowed. The next thing Holly knew, he was detangling himself from Marsh as Aidia got some breakfast going. The hair in his mouth was not his, if the copper-colored strands said anything as he squinted at them blearily in the morning light. Nope. Five more minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks, i have a tumblr! https://madrastique.tumblr.com/  
> liked the story? leave a comment


	21. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Yeeehaw bucko dragon sex" - The love of my life, my fiance and editor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as you might've seen in the a/n of the bonus scene, i finally finished book 2! i plan to do a bit of spinoff work between 2 and 3, so i'm still deciding that (i've been editing up some bonus scenes in the meanwhile so expect a few of those in the coming weeks!), but my options are either Imperial Amber (vice cop and nightclub owner slow burn enemies to lovers), Pirates (gay sailors and foreign continents), Dragon Marital Abuse (take a wild guess), and Guild Hall (a book 2 spinoff, Big Fun, where the most recent bonus scene (Champion) would be from). Legit if anyone has an opinion leave a comment! And now to Whatever This Is
> 
> Chapter Warnings:  
> Sex  
> The dick of the dragon  
> Elven hair kinks strike again  
> First time  
> Self-hate  
> Referenced child abuse

It wasn’t that Hollyhock  _ minded _ rooming with Ahren, especially not with how the rain pounded on the windows outside. They had been able to escape most of the downpour, getting themselves into a town in time to fill up two rooms at the local inn. Holly’s hair was only slightly damp and, not for the first time, he debated cutting it all off. Soon. As his hand scratched at his cheek, he considered growing his beard out again. It wasn’t like anyone would notice if he didn’t shave tonight, or the night after.

What had he been thinking about? Oh, right, rooming with Ahren. The man was a perfectly fine person; he gave Holly all the space and privacy he wanted. If anything, too much privacy. It was one thing to not stare at him as he changed or bathed, but it was another thing to turn around completely when Holly was anything less than fully dressed. And yes, that included shoes and jackets.

He had been acting odd, though, especially recently. The four of them had been travelling together for weeks, but Ahren had stopped meeting Hollyhock’s eyes some time ago. Whenever he needed to touch Holly, he did it with the lightest hand, like he was scared that Hollyhock was going to snap at him or shatter. He’d ask Holly to help him out with things that he already knew how to do, like starting the campfire or packing up his bedroll, citing the excuse that Hollyhock was better at it than him. It was… weird.

It was still weird now, too. Hollyhock was just settling in, putting away things from his pack and letting his bass rest on the desk, but when he glanced up, he’d see Ahren sneaking glances at him. His jacket had been thrown over the back of the chair and the boots lined up against the wall. The desk had a mirror facing the room, and Holly had been eager to claim it. He wasn’t vain—ah, there was that hairbrush—he just had a face to take care of sometimes.

In the mirror, he could see Ahren setting his pack down on the table, half-cape and boots still on. Thank the gods that he had started taking that shortsword off, stabbing himself in his sleep had not been a capable and noble thing to do, and Marsh had been grouchy when they were woken up to make sure their dragon didn’t bleed to death. Ha, ‘their dragon’, when had Holly started considering Ahren  _ his? _

“Hey Ahren?” Holly sat down in one of the chairs provided to them, crossing his legs.

Ahren looked up, caught sight of Hollyhock’s undress (hair down, boots off, no jacket, just an undershirt), and shoved his eyes back down. “Yes?”

“Why do you still have your boots on?”

He watched Ahren quietly pull off his own boots without complaint, imitating Hollyhock’s neat placement. A hint of a blush dusted the scales on his face. “I was not aware that it was a problem. My apologies.”

“It’s not a  _ problem _ , I just want you to be comfortable, bud. Come on, unwind a little. I’m not going to bite your head off just because you want to feel at ease.” The brush, predictably, snagged on a few knots. Ugh. Why did Holly decide to grow his hair out again?

Ahren hesitated, so Hollyhock took the initiative to turn the chair around, facing Ahren, slowly brushing his hair. “Really, look at the people you’re with. You think any of us really care about propriety? I met Aidia and Marsh covered in my own blood and sap and woke up in clothes that weren’t my own on a cot in Marsh’s house. You’re fine.”

“Well, if you insist.” The man refused to make eye contact as he gingerly unclasped the cape, hanging it up in the small closet they had been afforded (it was a nice room, even if it had one bed). After a brief pause, Ahren undid the buckles of his armor, also putting it away.

A smile spread across Hollyhock’s face. Progress. The brush snagged in his hair again, and Holly felt a deep, burning rage at his past self. “Hey, can you help me with my hair? It’s a really weird angle for me in the back and it’s annoying to use the mirror to do it.”

“Ah, alright, if you are sure.” Ahren’s voice was nearly a whisper.

“Thanks!” Holly wasn’t going to dwell on it.

He turned in the chair, sitting with the backrest at his chest as Ahren took the brush from him. Scaled hands brushed against his almost reverently, like he was afraid to breathe and ruin a moment that they were having. Watching Ahren through the mirror (what else was there to look at? Himself? Gods no), Holly noted that he was looking a bit peaky. Wait,  _ could _ Ahren catch illnesses from them? Was that how it worked? The last thing they needed was a sick dragon, and it would be even worse if they were  _ all _ sick.

Holly had made a mistake. A very important mistake. One that became painfully obvious when, on Ahren’s first pass through Holly’s hair, he pulled the brush down hard, catching on a vicious snarl with enough force to snap Hollyhock’s head back.

He yelped, hands on his hair, whipping around to face his accidental assailant. “Why?”

Ahren dropped the brush, the clatter screaming out his horror. “I am so sorry. I did not mean to hurt you, and I can only offer the deepest and humblest of apologies. Please, do what you wish in retribution.”

He bowed his head low, exposing the fragile skin of neck. It looked like he was trying to grovel at Holly’s feet, but didn’t know exactly what Holly wanted from him, so he settled on trying to push his cheek into the floor as far as it would go. Holly could see his breath coming in little pants, body rising and falling. A little tremble ran through his form, and it sent a pang through Hollyhock’s heart. He hated that he knew what this was.

Sighing quietly, Holly gently rested his palm on the back of Ahren’s neck, thumb rubbing calming circles into the tense muscles. The poor thing at his feet flinched, going completely still.

“You don’t have to do that, you know.” Holly’s voice was a quiet rumble, just loud enough to be heard between the two of them.

Ahren’s head whipped up, electrified. There was a moment as green eyes, manic and confused, settled on one relaxed, unphased blue. A deep green flush had spread over Ahren’s face and  _ oh. Right. _ Hair and brushing. Any good diplomat would know that elves had hair kinks and, in Ahren’s eyes, Hollyhock was basically an elf. A weird-looking elf, but an elf nonetheless. Every day, Holly was glad that he wasn’t raised by elves and that his father was one of the few normal ones that just wanted to talk about rocks and pet their dogs. This might as well happen.

Before Hollyhock could open his mouth to speak, Ahren beat him to breaking the silence. “I am not familiar with the anatomy of humanoids and humbly request leniency and mercy.”

“Yeah, that’s okay? I can be… uh… descriptive or whatever. Take the reins, that’s it, I can, uh, do that.” Holly said, trying not to think about how the last time he had sex with someone new was over a year ago and that he did  _ not _ know what to do with dragon anatomy.

Ahren just nodded sagely. Oh gods, Holly was the expert here, that was horrifying. “I believe that it is also pertinent for me to inform you that I have intentions of courting Marsh, so I may not be able to provide you with a stable union.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay. I’m not really the type for relation—you’re thinking of courting Marsh? Holy shit! Say more! Have you told them yet? Did you hold hands?” Holly gasped, flapping his hands excitedly. Did you  _ kiss _ ? Wait, no, that would be weird anatomically, wouldn’t it?” His hands fell still, loose and limp in front of his chest. “I could help, I guess?”

“That—er—I—I would be thankful for that.” Ahren blinked. “Thank you for your understanding I…” His words trailed off as Holly ran his hand along the top of Ahren’s head affectionately.

“Of course. So, to start off with, is there anything I should know about your, uh,” Holly inclined his head down to politely point at Ahren’s abdomen, not that the other man saw, “anatomy? Anything that shouldn’t be touched?”

Ahren’s words were more a pleased hum than anything as Holly’s fingers gently made their way through the soft scales and little fleshy horns at the back of his head. “No, nothing that shouldn’t be touched. I have never done anything like this, so forgive my ignorance, but I am under the impression that male dragons have interior genitalia and an egg channel.” He leaned into Holly’s hand like a dog, and Holly would be remiss to say that it wasn’t so cute. “That feels quite nice.”

Making a note that the little small horns that Holly could give a good scratch under was a touch that Ahren enjoyed, he redoubled his efforts, watching Ahren try and keep focus.

“An egg channel is meant for the depositing of an egg by a female, but Marsh looked through their book and it says that it may be a pleasant stimulus. The, ah, the diagram also suggested that the penis is very large, in comparison to that of a humanoid.” He trailed off, flicking his eyes to Hollyhock’s, anticipating judgement.

Okay, some new information. “Okay. For a humanoid with a dick—which I have, mind you—penetrative sex needs a lot of preparation and supplies that I don’t have right now…”

“That’s alright.” Gods, Ahren was looking at Holly like he’d hung the moon in the sky. “What would you like me to do? I may not be familiar, but I can learn if it is your desire.”

Oh gods. Okay. Haha. Calm down, Hollyhock, it's only a dragon diplomat kneeling at your feet that you’re going to deflower. Did this make him a bad person? “The bed would be a good place.” Was what his mouth said.

“Certainly.”

Ahren rose, lifting Hollyhock from his chair and yes, it was very hot. He was small in Ahren’s arms and being handled like he was some kind of precious artifact that Ahren was afraid would break If he held him wrong. It was a definite positive in the foreplay area. Holly was placed on the bed as gently as possible, as if he were liable to shatter into a million, million pieces at any moment. As he let go, Ahren sat down on the bed in front of him.

Trying to be encouraging, Holly kept his voice light. “Clothes off, bud. This is a nakey-nakey time activity.”

Ahren nodded quickly, as if he was waiting for the command. Okay, they had time to work on that. Holly shimmied out of his pants, not worrying about looking sexy or not (there was time for that later). Tossing the offending article of clothing off the side of the bed, he glanced back at Ahren. Gods, Hollyhock had never felt more like a prey animal in that moment, a dragon staring at him with wide, dilated eyes. One that had just managed to get out of his two layers of pants in record time.

Scaled hands twitched like they very much wanted to do  _ something _ , and Holly couldn’t help the grin (closer to bared teeth than anything) that spread across his face. It was Ahren, what was there to be worried about? As he took off his shirt, letting it fall onto the floor, Ahren’s jaws opened and closed soundlessly. When had he started thinking of Ahren’s mouth as  _ jaws _ , come on Hollyhock, this is your  _ friend _ , do better.

A forked tongue licked green lips. “Please do to me what you wish. I am yours to use.”

“Um.”

Like a switch had been flipped, Ahren was back to his anxious self. “I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?”

“What? Uh, no!” Hollyhock laughed, even though he probably shouldn’t have. “I just… I don’t want to order you around and stuff, I just want the both of us to have a fun time?” It took everything in him to not cringe at how corny that sounded.

There were sparkles in Ahren’s eyes. Oh gods he looked like he was about to cry. Oh no. “Thank you. If I need you to stop, I will let you know.” Okay, a bit concerning that this wasn’t the case beforehand but fine. Better late than never.

“Okay. Okay.” Hollyhock felt calmer, more willing to do this. “What do you want to do.”

A smile crept across Ahren’s face, a rare burst of confidence, fueled by what must have been a monumental amount of energy. He moved forward, hands landing on either side of Holly’s thighs. “I would like you to fuck me,  _ please, _ Hollyhock. I want to take you in me, and I want  _ you _ .”

Okay. Alright. Unexpected, but okay. He sounded desperate, and, from what Holly could see, he was turned on, his slit a deep emerald against where the warm pale green of his belly scales ended. There was a tinge of slick sticking to the crease of Ahren’s thighs, if Holly had kept going like this, there would be a dragon dripping onto the bed. Suddenly, he felt very okay with that, seeing Ahren undone.

Holly leaned forward, hand light on the back of Ahren’s neck as he breathed into his ear, “Consider it done.”

Pulling himself into Ahren’s lap in a straddle, Holly spread his hands over Ahren’s chest, exploring the area covered by soft cloth. He pressed his mouth against the column of his neck, reveling in the quiet little gasp that Ahren let out, sounds shifting into whimpers as Holly began to feather kisses along the silken skin. Clawed hands stuttered and fluttered, trying to find a place to land before roosting at the base of Hollyhock’s spine.

That was nice, the feeling of being supported. As a reward, Hollyhock arched up, slotting his hips in closer, into a more advantageous position. Sucking on the base of Ahren’s neck, Holly was gifted a series of clicks, cut off by a low moan. Clicks good, moans better. Got it. Holly’s body began to stir, finally waking to the action as Ahren’s hands tightened, claws careful not to break skin.

Ahren did nothing to dissuade him, rutting up against him as Holly took his sweet time, lingering and savoring. It wasn’t every day that he did this, after all. Grazing his teeth against the spot he had been working on, where Ahren’s shoulder and neck connected (and where there was now a bit of a hickey), Ahren shuddered and muffled himself against Hollyhock’s skin like the half-elf had wrapped a hand around his dick.

“Is this sex?” Oh, the poor thing.

Hollyhock couldn’t stop himself from chuckling against Ahren’s skin. He just sounded so turned on and eager, it was hard not to give in and tell him that  _ yes _ , this was what sex was, he had finally figured it out. He was done.

Nevertheless, Holly persisted. “This is foreplay. We’re  _ about _ to have sex, here, lie back.”

Ahren complied, flattening himself out on the bed. Scooting back, Holly positioned himself between Ahren’s legs, pushing the other man’s shirt up. It wouldn’t do to ruin such a pretty beige chemise, would it? No, it wouldn’t. Stop thinking about chemises, you’re about to have sex. His dick was already half hard, and, from what little Hollyhock knew about reptile genitalia, Ahren was in the same sinking boat.

Huh, Holly thought as Ahren spread his legs to accommodate the half-elf in between them, that’s what a dragon dick looks like. It had slid out of the slit and was decently big, somewhere around ten or eleven inches. Not overly so, really, humanoids could get that big. Tapering at the tip, what really got Holly were the ridges.

Three ridges, to be specific. Each flared out wider at the base, a darker, cooler green than the one above it. It was slick with a pale gold fluid, Holly had heard of species that self-lubricated this way. Yeah, no. This wasn’t going in him tonight, not without a  _ lot _ of preparation. Immediately below the dick, though, was an opening, large enough for two or so fingers. Did dragons need to be stretched open? How would Holly know?

“Can I touch you?” Holly took the opportunity to pull himself closer, hands steady on either side of Ahren’s hips.

“Yes, please.  _ Please _ touch me.” He was already breathless. It was very endearing.

Gently, Hollyhock ran his hand down Ahren’s stomach and up the front of Ahren’s dick, reveling in how his pelvis arched up so eagerly, desperate for contact. Ahren screwed his jaw shut, tight enough that Hollyhock worried he might chip a tooth. Broken teeth were no fun for anyone. Leaning forward to press a quick, closed-lip kiss to the side of his mouth, Holly breathed out his words just quiet enough for only Ahren to hear.

“You’re allowed to make sound, you know.”

And then, he was back where he had been, moving his hand in steady, calm motions. To a backdrop of chirps and trills, Hollyhock turned his attention to the slit. Running over it with a thumb caused a violent shudder accompanied by a high whine to escape Ahren, quickly followed by pleading and reassurances that  _ yes _ that was  _ amazing please again please. _ The side of Hollyhock’s mouth quirked up, holding back a quiet laugh. With the utmost care, he slid two fingers in.

The trill Ahren made reminded Holly of a songbird, his claws digging into the headboard (oh gods, it would be a  _ pain _ to explain those scratches). There was more room in him than the slit would have suggested, definitely enough room for a dick. As his fingers brushed up on the underside of Ahren’s cock, Hollyhock crooned praises, telling Ahren just how  _ good _ he was being.

Adding a third finger, he noticed that dragons burned colder than more mammalian life forms. Not  _ cold _ cold, per se, just… not as warm as someone else. Holly let his free hand explore, rubbing circles into the insides of Ahren’s thighs and feathering down his stomach, enjoying the way Ahren’s wings flicked and twitched whenever Holly hit a spot he liked. He was adorable like this, breathing heavy, voice littered with chirps, lost in the bliss of his first fuck.

Pulling his hand out, Hollyhock stroked himself idly, finally giving into the building need in between his legs. He situated himself better, lining himself up with Ahren’s entrance.

“Can I—”

“ _ Please. _ Can you  _ please _ fuck me, Hollyhock.”

Okay. Got it. As he pushed in, Ahren was tight around him and intoxicatingly warm. Yes, Holly might have gasped out a moan as he bottomed out, pausing, giving Ahren a moment to adjust to this new feeling. Slowly, Holly started with a slow tempo, despite how much his body demanded that he move faster. Beneath him, Ahren moaned almost hesitantly, like he was trying to figure out the correct noise to make.

With a chuckle that was more gasp than anything, Holly pressed his lips to Ahren’s cheek, planting kisses down his jaw as he went. Giving in, Holly moved faster, bathing in the praises that slid out of Ahren, the clicks and whines and moans that bounced around the air before funneling straight down into Hollyhock’s ego. Gods it really had been too long since he’d done something like this.

That was when the door opened. Hollyhock looked up, pushing the loose hair out of his face and over one shoulder, stilling.

“Hey Marsh, something wrong?” Marsh had seen him naked before, this was fine.

They glanced at him, unphased. “You have the water flasks in your pack.” Crossing over to Holly’s side of the room, they rooted through his pack, finding the flasks. “I think you also have Aidia’s jacket, the big olive one. Can I take that?”

“Sure, it’s over the chair.” Holly gestured with an open hand as Ahren tried not to die of embarrassment beneath him.

“Yep, thanks.” Marsh put Holly’s pack together quickly, leaning it against the mirror. “Aidia says to keep it down because we’re trying to read. Have fun, don’t get anyone pregnant.”

“Sure thing, Marshmallow. See you later!”

“Don’t call me that.”

The door closed.

“Maker take me.” Ahren covered his burning face in his hands, chewing on his palm with sharp fangs. “Maker take me and strike me from the sky.”

Hollyhock had to laugh at that, doubling over and burying his face into Ahren’s shirt, shoulders shaking. Arms stilled above him as Ahren stiffened up, unsure of what to do in this situation. It took him a minute to get himself under control, and, as he sat back up, there was still a wide grin plastered onto Holly’s face, hiccups bubbling in his throat.

“I’d really rather she didn’t, not right now, at least.” Holly took the hand that Ahren had been chewing on out of his mouth, pressing his lips to it in a chaste peck. “Now, can we keep going, or are you done for the night?”

Ahren sighed, and Holly watched the tension leave his shoulders as his good mood infected the other man. “I don’t see why not. Let’s see this act to the conclusion.”

“Mm, almost like you weren’t the one begging for my cock just a few minutes ago.” Holly shifted his hips before Ahren could protest, turning the words into a breathy, chirpy moan.

Clawed hands unwrapped themselves from the wood of the headboard and pressed themselves into Holly’s shoulder blades, squeezing the warm muscle in a way that wasn’t unpleasant at all. As little talons ran down his spine as if he were a precious heirloom, Hollyhock drank in the pleasant shudder, quickening the pace as it approached that needy fervor that it had just been with a moan of his own.

Gods, the  _ sounds _ this man was making for him, it was intoxicating. Hollyhock cupped Ahren’s cheek, seizing his attention with an iron fist. Green eyes fixed on him, glazed, horny, and willing to do whatever he asked.

He wasn’t going to ask anything. “You’re doing so good for me, so, so good.”

How a dragon currently a million miles away could look more turned on, Holly didn’t know, but he did. His thumb rubbed little circles into the underside of Ahren’s jaw, feeling powerful muscles engage as the other man swallowed around a dry throat, grabbing onto Holly’s waist like his life depended on it.

As Hollyhock hit a sweet spot inside him, Ahren threw his head back, a high whine breaking off into a moan, spine arching off of the bed. Okay. Do that. Do… Yeah. Hollyhock bent his head forward, scraping his teeth against the side of Ahren’s neck, chasing his own high as he rutted into the man more. Gods, he needed this. He needed this so bad. If he could just—if he could just…

Ahren’s panting sped up, pulling Hollyhock close. He screamed as his muscles tensed up, suddenly impossibly tight, impossibly hot around him. Slick painted the inside of his thighs gold as— _ yes, please yes _ —Holly thrust once, twice more, before his mind went blissfully blank. He buried himself inside Ahren, gasping into his neck as his body twitched.

The hammering of Ahren’s heart drew Holly back to reality as he blinked. His limbs felt like jelly and he was still out of breath, but most of all, he just felt tired. Gods, he always felt so tired. Even still, he got up, slipping out of Ahren and leaning over to grab one of the hand towels they had been afforded from the nightstand.

Ahren gazed up at Holly with a sluggish, blissed-out look. “Did I do okay?”

“You did great, really.” Holly smiled down at him, passing the towel over his own crotch. How in fuck’s name was he going to get golden slick out of pubic hair. Fuck. He didn’t think this through. “I’m going to get cleaned up, if you’d like some help.”

“Cleaned up?”

Holly tapped Ahren’s thigh, just below where slick was drying, eliciting a quiet yelp from the dragon. “You’re a bit of a mess, there, bud.”

“Oh.” Blushing, Ahrens sat up and tucked his legs under him.

“Right, I’m going to get cleaned up. You’re welcome to go to sleep if you want, I might be a while.” Holly pulled an actual towel to dry himself with from the dresser, wrapping it around his waist.

As he ducked out of the room, he grabbed his hairbrush. Holly closed the door behind him. Gods, he needed a bath, that was what took up his thoughts as he took the walk of shame down the hall to the bathroom. More than a bath, he needed to get a brush through his hair. He smelled like sex and sweat and the road, and gods near and far, Holly just wanted to smell like soap and take a nap.

Locking the door behind him, Hollyhock ran himself a hot bath, making use of the amenities they had been provided. In the mirror, there was a man that he hardly recognized at this point. He was so much skinnier than when he left home, gods, his ribs hadn’t always been this prominent, had they? Muscles stood out with no fat to pad them out.

“Ugh.” The complaint was quiet enough to be lost in the running water as Holly leaned forward, rubbing a knuckle against his cheek.

He needed to shave, maybe there would be time tomorrow morning? The dark hairs on his face stood out and made him look so much older and scruffier. That’s what two months on the road’d do, though, wouldn’t it.

Either way, it was bath time, and Hollyhock would not be denied this any longer. Grabbing some soap and pouring in a bit of bath oils, he turned off the pump. It was nice to feel clean for the first time in a while and, with the help of some hair oils, the brush was going through his hair smoothly. It was over too soon, though, water growing cold, prompting Holly to get up and dry off.

Creeping quietly back into his room, Hollyhock was greeted by the flash of two reflective eyes on him as he opened the door. Whelp. His clothing was in there. And his bed. Occupied by a dragon. It was too late to ask Aidia and Marsh to sleep with them. Gods damnit.

“Hey,” Holly kept his voice soft, “you okay?”

“I think I love you.”

Nope. Not tonight. “You don’t.”

Ahren’s hands balled up the bedcovers in the dim light. “Was that the wrong thing to say?”

“Listen, you’re high on endorphins right now. You don’t love  _ me _ , you just like how I made you feel. No one’s fault. Why don’t you… why don’t you let me know in the morning, huh?” Holly pulled on something that could service as a sleep shirt and some underwear.

“I deeply apologize.” He hadn’t heard a word he said.

Hollyhock just wanted to  _ sleep _ . “You didn’t do anything wrong. Scoot over I’m not sleeping on the floor.”

Ahren obliged him, and Holly was able to get into the bed, rolling over onto his side, back to Ahren.

“I responded in the incorrect way, and I have displayed profound ignorance, for that, I apologize.” Rolling over, Holly could see a rigid line of tension running down his back. “For deceiving you, for being a disappointment, for ruining—”

Hollyhock pulled him into a hug, feeling Ahren’s breath hitch, leaving him in short, sharp sobs. There wasn’t much Holly could do aside from rub little circles into Ahren’s back, offering little filler phrases to break up the silence. As Ahren quieted down, breathing growing more even, Holly still kept him there, resting his forehead against cool scales.

“Don’t apologize for that, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

When he spoke, Ahren’s voice was rough and raspy. “I am an abomination, a creature undeserving of your care. I do not understand why you have allowed me to continue travelling with you. I should not be seen, let alone touched.”

“Welcome to the home of abominations.” Hollyhock had to laugh at that. “I wasn’t considered a person by law until fifteen years ago, neither were Aidia or Marsh. And I think you’re pretty nice to look at.”

Ahren made a noise in his throat that sounded suspiciously like a choked-back laugh.

“I don’t get who would say that to you, honestly.”

“My mother.” Oh. All the potential lightness had burned out of his voice.

“No offense, but I hate your mom.”

“She reacted to me accordingly.” Even still, Ahren pulled Holly in against his chest.

Holly chuckled, allowing himself to be used as a living hot pack. “She didn’t.”

“You would do the same.”

“But I didn’t, and I care about you, despite what you may think.”

“So you love me?” He sounded so fucking hopeful.

Hollyhock’s stomach turned to nausea. “Not in that way, but it’s not you. It’s me. I don’t feel that way about anyone, I don’t do the romantic stuff. Me and Marsh were talking and they suggested I might me something called ‘aromantic’. I don’t know. Sorry.” He had been tensing up, and Holly made himself relax with an exhale. “I still want to be friends, though.”

“I would like to be friends too.”

A grin split Holly’s face. “Then why don’t you let me sleep, old man?”

“I am not old!” His tone was so indignant.

Hollyhock hummed in agreement, mouth splitting open in a yawn. Gods, he was tired. “You’re only three hundred something something.”

Whatever Ahren’s response was, Hollyhock didn’t bother remembering it as his eyes drifted closed. It was nice, this, actually talking and not tiptoeing around a million fears and anxieties and unsureties. It was good to actually spend time with someone. Stress relief. All that shit that Marsh talked about. Ahren asked what sounded like a question and waited for a response, so Hollyhock made a sound approximating ‘mhm’. Hands carefully and hesitantly carded through his hair and Holly felt his breathing slow.

This was how Hollyhock fell asleep, happily stupid, dragon playing with his hair as he was used as a hot water bottle. In the morning, as light crept through the windows and Aidia knocked on his door to rouse him, Ahren was still there, reading a book, still petting Holly’s hair. It was too early for this shit. No. Holly rolled over, grumbling. If Aidia wanted him awake so bad, she could come in and do it herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks, i have a tumblr! https://madrastique.tumblr.com/  
> liked the story? leave a comment


	22. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> local FOOL thinks reading smut in the library is a great idea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is,,,, no heating in my house. it is april. in the northeast us. i am,,,, anemic. i suffer. anyways yall're getting a bonus scene this week and 2 chaps bc they're short
> 
> Chapter Warnings:  
> none :3c

The town they were passing through was bigger than normal. It was actually home to more than a few residential buildings, a city hall, a general store, and an inn. Shockingly, there was more than one road passing through it. On Main Street, there was a well-stocked market, a general store, a tailor’s and a cobbler’s (the sign implied they were married), and even a blacksmith’s. There was a  _ library _ , it was basically a city.

After checking into the local inn and dropping the brunt of their things off in their rooms, Hollyhock grabbed his bass and wandered off into the woods with the cheerful explanation that he was going to figure out what did what without doing some property damage. Hopefully. Marsh  _ really _ hoped he didn’t cause property damage and get them chased out of town. As for the rest of them, they went to the library.

It was a rather large building, made with this pretty oak frame painted a dark red. The panels in between the beams were a clean, creamy white. All in all, the structure stood about two stories high, the roof tiled with ceramic shingles. Someone had opened all of the windows and doors, shutters and all, to let in the early fall air.

At the counter, a dark-haired, dark-skinned elf man sat, dressed in comfortable clothing, idly reading a book with a light blue cover. He had kicked his chair back, holding his book open with one hand. Looking up as they entered, he gave them a neutral but pleasant closed-lip expression.

“Hi, can I help you?”

Aidia smiled at him politely as she walked up to the front desk, Ahren and Marsh following behind. “Hello, would you happen to have a section on recent historical events and politics in the current century?”

“Upstairs and to the left, third aisle from the back.”

“Thank you very much.” Aidia ruffled Marsh’s hair and bid Ahren farewell. “I’ll be seeing you two later, then. Best of luck with whatever you’re looking for.” She whisked herself away, light pink skirt swirling up the stairs in search of her highly specific information.

Ahren was next. He blushed, casting his eyes down, stuttering out his question. “Would you, ah, happen to have anything about… forbidden acts?”

The librarian raised an eyebrow. “Are you talking about sex or murder?”

“S—s… the carnal acts.” Marsh was genuinely surprised at how much Ahren could blush. How did the man have any blood left in his body to move with?

“Yeah, we have erotica.” The elf was entirely unphased, closing his book on his index finger as a bookmark and using that hand to point. “Fictional erotica’s on the first floor that-a-ways, adult section, on the right, fourth aisle down, all the way at the end. Non-fiction, we got sex manuals and all that, that’s upstairs  _ that _ -a-ways on the right, sixth aisle down. I’ve got a couple up here, actually—” he twisted around to look over his left shoulder at some of the books waiting to be shelved behind him. “Yeah, those relationship guides, if you want them.”

Ahren picked at his shirt with his claws. “Yes, please.”

“Sure.” Putting his book face-down on the counter (Honey-wine in the Night, sounds steamy), he stood, turning and leafing through his books. “You going to tell me which or am I guessing?” Before Ahren could interrupt, he kept going. “Oh, no… looks like I’m guessing.”

He placed two books on the counter, ‘Relations with Half-Elves’ and ‘Relations with Humanish’. Aw, that was adorable. Marsh grinned to themselves as Ahren took them, making his way upstairs with a quiet ‘thank you’.

They stepped up to the counter. “Do you have medical things?”

“Sure do, medical periodicals and journals or actual textbooks?” The elf gave them a lopsided grin, leaning on his left arm. His only arm. Huh. Anyway.

Marsh’s eyes lit up. “Both. All. Yes.”

With a laugh, the elf jerked his head to the right. “Periodicals are to the left of the counter—my left, not yours—medical journals and all that are in the third drawer from the windows.”

Looking, Marsh noted that the area next to the counter had been made into a small reading nook. A bookshelf displaying the recent additions to the collections was situated above the drawers, themselves neatly labeled with a steady hand. It looked cozy, and Marsh was more than excited to get their paws on the journals.

“Medical books are upstairs,” the elf continued, “on your left, first aisle. Go nuts.” He saluted them with two fingers before sitting back down, returning to his book.

“Thanks.” Marsh remembered their manners as they rushed to the drawer they’d been directed to.

There was a feast of medical magazines inside, and, after a few excited seconds of bouncing and hand-flapping, they found some recent ones about iron allergies in fae. Yes. This was  _ so _ cool. Snatching them up, Marsh made their way upstairs in a motion that wasn’t running, because running wasn’t allowed in libraries. They knew their manners. Manners were important, or something.

Arriving at the first aisle, Marsh knew in their heart that this is what the end of souls would look like. There were so. Many. Books. As they flit from tome to tome on all manner of things, all manner of species, they plucked books that fixed their interest with an iron grip from the shelves. A book on half-elf surgeries (with pictures! Yes!) found itself in their arms, quickly followed by a book of dragon necrosis (score!).

They piled their prizes high against their chest and descended the stairs again, in search for a comfortable reading spot that was a tad less exposed than right next to the front desk. There was another room near the stairs where the hallway ended, right where the fiction books were. A scaled hand reached over their shoulder, opening the door for them.

Glancing up, Marsh bore witness to Ahren’s friendly, if slightly embarrassed, smile. “Thanks.” They said, passing through the doorway, Ahren following.

“Oh, it isn’t a problem at all.” He kept pace with them, occasionally glancing around for other people. “Where are you off to?”

“Finding a reading nook. Are you joining me?” Marsh shifted their grip clumsily, trying not to spill books and magazines all over the floor. Why did medical textbooks have to be so big and thick, it was like they were  _ meant _ to torture them.

Ahren picked up a few magazines from the top of Marsh’s pile, not even looking at the covers. In his own arms he had four books: a typical steamy romance, the two relationship manuals he’d been given, and a clinical-sounding guide to the ‘courting patterns of humanoids’. Good for him, he needed to learn this.

“If, ah, if you wouldn’t mind my presence.” He had the gall to look bashful.

Shrugging, Marsh flicked their hair out of their face with a finger. “I don’t care. Thanks for the help, by the way.”

“It was my pleasure!” The way Ahren said it strongly implied that he would’ve helped no matter what Marsh asked of him. Okay. Cool. That could be a problem later. “What about that table there, with the odd chairs surrounding it? Would that be a comfortable ‘reading nook’?”

They followed the direction of Ahren’s gaze. It was a low wooden table surrounded by a couple of bean bags and a stuffed purple armchair. Yeah, that would work. “Sure, I want the blue bean bag.”

“Please, be my guest. Is that what those things are called? Bean bags?” Ahren set his things down on the table, taking the armchair for himself.

“Yeah.” Putting their own books down, Marsh flopped onto the bean bag, laying happily on their stomach. “Can I have those magazines you grabbed?”

“Oh, of course! Here you are.” He beamed at them.

Marsh took them from him, and Ahren tilted his head not-so-subtly to look at Marsh’s choice of reading material. His brow furrowed, and his expression became a bit sicker than normal, sitting back down and picking up the dry-looking thin book about humanoid courting. Marsh didn’t see why ‘Rates of Decomposition in Draconic and Other Such Non-Mammalian Life; Complete and Revised Edition, Now with Full Color Illustrations’ would be a cause for concern, but to each their own.

They quickly lost themselves in their magazines anyway, flipping through one after the other and deeply enjoying learning about how different types of iron allergies manifested in fae. Apparently if a fae went through an unstable rift or was raised off of the Solaq, they could gain a tolerance to iron and use it as a supplement to copper. It might’ve given them some resistance to blood-borne diseases, but there weren’t enough people like that to know.

Every time they shifted out their reading material for something else, burning through the magazines and picking up the dragon decomposition book, Ahren glanced at them, turning a little more green every time they caught him looking and stuck his snout back into his book. It was kind of cute, in a distracting way, because once Marsh  _ started _ noticing it, they couldn’t stop.

“So, ah,” Ahren broke the silence after Marsh was more than halfway through their book, on a particularly interesting chapter about various cultures that scavenged dragon carcasses and the tools they used to butcher them with, “how might your book be?”

They didn’t look up, kicking their legs in the air. “You’re being all formal again.”

“I am doing no such thing.”

“You are, though.”

They stretched, shifting their attention from their book to Ahren. He was chewing on the inside of his cheek, claws tapping at the cover of his book. Oh, he had finished the humanoid guide and decided to pick up the half-elf book and was nearly done with that one too. As he noticed their gaze, his blush deepened and he broke eye contact, picking the floor next to him as the most interesting spot in the room to look at.

“And what does it matter if I am? I may be wrong, but I do not believe that there is a criminal penalty for exercising a healthy respect for my companions.” There was a stutter and a voice crack in his sentence.

Marsh rested their chin on their palm. “You’re only formal when you’re freaked out, so just tell me plainly, what did I do this time? I’m only reading.”

Blinking those big green eyes at him, Ahren cocked his head to the side like a bird. He was spending too much time around Hollyhock. “You haven’t done anything?”

They drew their brows together. “Then why are you being awkward?”

“I was, ah, maybe, going to ask if you wanted to…” his head straightened, like he was trying to remember a script he had just learned, “to ‘go out’?”

But their books. “I’m not done reading, though?”

Ahren’s eyes darted to their face. “I, um, I meant with me?”

“But what about Holly and Aidia?” Marsh didn’t get it. “Just… just say what you mean as bluntly as possible. I don’t get subtext and I don’t get what you’re trying to say.” Especially not when every sentence Ahren said had a minimum of three clauses and an unspoken plea for his life.

“Then, ah, then let me start over.” He took a deep breath and tightened his hands on his book, careful not to scratch anything with his claws. “Would you like to go out on a date with me later at an unspecified time?”

This wasn’t on the list of questions Marsh had a prepared script for. “Like, a romantic date or a platonic one?”

“There are platonic dates?” Ahren was already reaching for the humanoid courtship book.

“That book was written by a dragon forty years ago, it’s inaccurate. And yeah, there are platonic dates. Holly drags us on them all the time when we go and check out taverns or fish.”

A horrified look passed over his face. “Are we dating Hollyhock?”

“Um,” the fact that Marsh didn’t really  _ know _ wasn’t good, “are we?”

“Well—um—ah—” Ahren stuttered, setting his book down.

“Ha! You don’t know either!” Marsh propped themselves up.

Chewing on a finger, Ahren closed his book. “Alright, what if we break this problem up into little pieces.”

“You spend too much time around Holly, but sure. Evidence for and evidence against.”

“We can discuss that later. The evidence for is… that…” he thought, eyes traversing the room like that would help him remember, “Holly is nice.”

Marsh nodded. “He’s flirted with us.”

“But he flirts with everyone?”

Hm, did he though? “I think that’s just how he talks. He’s slept with both of us.”

“What about Aidia?”

Marsh blinked at Ahren slowly. “Aidia’s a lesbian, she likes girls.”

He set his book down on the table. “Why would that be an issue? He has slept in the same bed as her numerous times?”

Oh, miscommunication. Marsh’s mistake. “No, that’s not what that means. Yes, he’s slept in the same bed as us, but in this context, ‘slept with us’ means he’s dicked us both down.”

The blush tinging Ahren’s cheeks was adorable. “Right, my apologies. What of the aromanticism? Am I saying that correctly?”

“You are and I’m the same way. It could just be that he doesn’t want to do romantic things and is fine with things in a non-romantic context. Or he might not be romantically repulsed, I’m not.” Marsh shrugged, sitting up.

“Does that mean we must ask him? Is that allowed? It feels like it isn’t.” There was genuine worry in his voice and Marsh could hear the way his teeth scraped at his skin. Oh gods, he was going to have a panic attack in front of Marsh, and it was going to be their job to snap him out of it. This is why they needed a nurse, they were very not good at playing therapist.

They leaned over the table, grabbing Ahren’s wrist in what they hoped was a comforting manner. “Stop freaking out.”

“Marsh, it feels incredibly rude and I very much do not want to be forced to continue this journey on my lonesome and what if this makes Holly hate us?” He was hyperventilating. Okay. Marsh could do this.

“Holly’s not going to hate us, it’s fine.” Yes, perfect.

“But what about the situation in which you are wrong?”

Marsh kept their voice easy and calming. People liked that, right? “I don’t think I am. Holly’s a half-elf and I was raised by half-elves, so I’m pretty sure he’s not going to kick you out just because you’re confused. And I’d vote to keep you.”

“Are you sure?” Gods, he sounded so young.

Marsh released his hand. “Yes, now take a deep breath and calm down. We can ask Holly later, like, tonight.”

As Marsh eased back into their seat, finding the spot they were in their book, Ahren did as they said. “Right, yes. I must keep my composure, thank you, Marsh.”

“Mhm.” They said, flicking their eyes back down to their page, refamiliarizing themselves with what they had been reading about.

Dragon jerky, right. The two of them read like that for a while, Marsh finishing up that book and starting on the one about half-elf surgery. An hour or so passed until Ahren jerked up like a man possessed, closing his book as he finished it.

“You never told me if you wanted to go on a date with me or not!” There was a light, accusing tone in his voice, imitating what he had heard Aidia use when she was joking.

“What? Oh, sure.” No harm in that. “I think I saw a few restaurants in town, but I’ll eat anything.”

“Wait, really?” There were stars in Ahren’s eyes. Had… had he expected them to say no?”

Marsh went back to kicking their legs, the bounce of their calves satisfying. “Yeah? Why not?”

“I just… um… never mind. Yes. I will look into restaurants.” He looked down, trying to keep Marsh from seeing his embarrassment.

Ahren picked up another book from his pile, and it took everything in Marsh not to laugh. It was that romance novel they had noticed earlier, the steamy looking one. From what they could see, the author had an elf name, so, not promising. It was called ‘A Half-Elf Comes to Town’, and featured a dark-skinned half-elf with long, blond hair being embraced by a pale elf woman with light brown hair. Marsh was so thankful that they weren’t the one who was going to have to shake those thoughts out of Ahren’s head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks, i have a tumblr! https://madrastique.tumblr.com/  
> liked the story? leave a comment


	23. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> but how do you KNOW if you're dating the half-elf or not?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2nd promised chap ;P
> 
> Chapter Warnings:  
> \- slight magic fuckery  
> \- only a wee bit of mind manipulation it was accidental  
> \- half-elf is a kink  
> \- holly's literal nightmare

Unfortunately, it was not Marsh but Hollyhock that had to explain that ‘half-elf’ was a very common fetish in Elven society to Ahren. It was an actual problem. Queen Malaidor was doing her best to work on it, but there was only so much she could do in fifteen years, and making elves think that half-elves weren’t the forbidden mate (and thus, sexy by taboo) wasn’t one of them. Right. He had been a fool to think that he could escape that.

Holly has his face in his hands, fingers running through his hair and gently tugging to remind himself that, yes, this was still happening. This was really happening. Hollyhock was saying, with his mouth, that no, half-elves weren’t constantly horny and didn’t have magic sex powers while Ahren argued with him. It was the arguing. That was the worst part.

He was going to die. This was it. This was how he was going to go. Not to his patron or a pack of six wolves, no. Hollyhock Enomh Kenning was going to die of embarrassment.

“Ahren, you’ve seen my dick. You  _ know _ it’s not ten inches.” Gods he sounded so dead inside.

Marsh stifled a laugh and Holly elected not to bring it up, like the wonderful friend that he was. That would be rude and impolite, and Holly was neither of those things right now. Plus, Marsh had not only seen but also ridden his dick, and he sure didn’t hear much complaining when  _ that _ was happening, so there.

Unflapped, Ahren continued. “Yes, but you see, this book I read—”

“Was written by a very,  _ very _ horny elf who’s never met a half-elf.” Hollyhock interrupted. His hand reached up to absently pick at his ear, remembering that his piercings were at home as his hand connected with smooth skin. “It’s so bad, if you have anatomical questions, just ask me, for fuck’s sake. Or erotica, I know some good erotica that  _ isn’t _ based off of offensive stereotypes.”

Ahren perked up, leaning forward, eyes wide. Oh no.

Holly scratched at the tip of his ear, trying to remember names. “Lady Belladonna Feller’s a good one, if you can find her this far east. She’s a human in the Territories that writes good things, my best friend back home likes her. Altair Thorn, too. He’s an Ilvoni author but I’m sure there’s a translation floating out there.”

“I shall have to research them.” Ahren took out his notebook and a pencil and actually wrote that down. “In the meanwhile, are the three of us in a partnership?”

Hollyhock felt a fragment of his soul chip off and fall to the ground. “What?”

“He’s asking if the three of us are dating.” Marsh learned back in their chair, swinging one leg while the other was crossed in front of them. “We were confused.”

“D…do you  _ want _ to be?” Please say no, please say no. “I’m never going to feel romantic attraction, you guys know that, right?”

“And thank the gods for that. I’m all in for a loveless relationship.” Marsh grinned at him, understanding partially.

Clearing his throat, Ahren looked very out of his element. “What—ah—what would that consist of, exactly?”

“Um, I’m not very big on dates and all that, but what y’all do with each other is your business.” Holly shifted his position in the chair he was sitting in, throwing one leg over the armrest. “I’m not getting married. That’s a promise. I’m not going to get married.”

“Alright, you don’t have to.” Marsh put their hands up. “What about physical shit and all that? Making out? Is that still fair game?”

Nodding, Holly tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. What if he dyed a white streak into it when he got to the capitol. It looked nice a few years ago with Easy. “That’s a good point, Ahren?”

“Yes, ah, yes. It sounds reasonable and acceptable. What about public affection such as pet names and physical contact?” Ahren crossed his legs, hands folded daintily in his lap. “Am I allowed to describe the two of you as being affiliated with me in a more… um… intimate way than simply travelling companions.”

The blush really was adorable. With a glance, Holly and Marsh both shrugged.

“I thought we were friends,” Hollyhock said, Marsh nodding along, “but sure, why not.”

He looked like a Draconic teenager getting his first taste of courtship. So, horrified and terrified. That was the expression on his face. “Alright. Okay, as some may say. I promise that I will not be a disgusting blemish on your lives.”

“Oh, you won’t be, don’t worry.” Holly stood up, trying to hide how much he wanted to make sure Ahren never thought that ever again. Instead, he contented himself with placing a peck onto his cheek.

As Ahren blushed deeper, Holly leaned back, yawning. Gods, he was tired. In response, Marsh yawned and Ahren hastily tried to imitate the motion, trying to make sure he was doing it right. It was adorable, and the look in Marsh’s eyes hinted that Ahren was going to have to sit still while they tried to figure out his musculature.

And then, fortunately or unfortunately for everyone, Hollyhock had a thought. “I’ve never seen you through my magic eye!”

Ahren blinked at him like Holly had just announced he was going to grow a second head. “I’m sorry?”

Lightly tapping his eyepatch, Hollyhock grinned. “I’ve never seen what you look like through it!”

“Do… things look different through it?”

“I think it sees the ties that bind people together, Aidia thinks it sees people’s personal truths, and Holly thinks it sees both.” Marsh explained. “It’s pretty cool.”

Hollyhock was already taking off his eyepatch, and Ahren blinked when he saw the extent of the damage. It wasn’t like it was  _ that _ bad, Marsh said that they’d seen much worse natural burns, and it wasn’t like it bothered him. Then again, there was something to be said about the way people looked at him, like the magic was contagious.

“So?” Marsh’s voice broke his thoughts. “Anything interesting.”

Tilting his head, Holly described what he saw, Ahren squirming a bit under his scrutiny. “Ahren’s small, like, a really cute little dragon. It’s super adorable. His wings are pinned back, which looks pretty uncomfortable, but there’s a blue string connecting the three of us and each of us to there.” He pointed to where Aidia was, presumably.

“Have you always been this way?” Ahren asked, rising out of his chair and forgetting all his rules about personal space, tilting Hollyhock’s chin up with a gentle knuckle.

He obliged him, lifting his head without much resistance. “Accidentally made a fae pact.”

“It was purposeful.” Marsh supplied, helpfully.

“I didn’t think it was going to work, so it was an accident.”

Ahren grazed the scar with a thumb and it took everything in Holly’s being not to shudder. He froze in place, a million thoughts all shouting over each other in his head to make him stop, to get away, to  _ leave _ . No, come on. Get a hold of yourself, everything was fine. It’s  _ Ahren _ , just calm down.

Hollyhock kept his voice quiet, trying not to startle the dragon whose claws were  _ very _ close to not only one but two eyes that Holly could see out of. “Hey, Ahren?”

“Yes?” He didn’t pull back.

“I really don’t like people touching my scar, so if you could lay off, that’d be great.” Ahren pulled back like Holly’s skin had scalded him, guilt writ plain on his face, but Holly caught his hand and pressed a chaste kiss to it. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to get some rest.”

His voice was sing-song as he spoke, and with the most careful of touches, Holly watched the string between himself and Ahren strengthen, some of the fibers that made up the string bleeding into a wine red. The crackle of magic filled Hollyhock, bright and vibrant and just barely controlled. The gears of the world clicked, as if reality had just aligned better.

Watching the tension flow out of Ahren’s body and his eyes soften into something that resembled adoration. Ahren leaned closer to him, like Hollyhock was his whole world. Okay. That was… not good. He could… um… he could fix that later. Right now, Hollyhock was scared to do  _ anything _ to the strings. He just wanted to make him not have a panic attack over this. As Ahren stared at him like he was brighter than the sun, Hollyhock tried to disentangle himself quickly, letting go of his hand with an easy smile and muttering something that was probably considered flirting.

Ahren stuttered and blushed through Holly’s excuse of having a headache, his claims that he was going to Aidia’s room to lie down. His heart was racing. Hollyhock was going to throw up. His head pounded. Sure, he had been practicing but this level of finesse left him feeling like he’d just plowed a field without assistance. Trying to ignore the way Ahren’s eyes roved down his body, Holly left, closing the door behind him.

Through the door, he could hear the faint shreds of Marsh and Ahren’s conversation.

“Was it something I did?” Ahren asked, sounding like he fully believed it was his fault and not Hollyhock doing unethical things.

Marsh’s voice was calmer. “He always feels bad when he casts, he probably just needs to sleep it off.”

“Hollyhock was casting?”

“The air pressure dropped and everything, you didn’t feel it?”

Oh. Marsh knew. Alright. Okay. Holly had options. That was what consumed him as he walked into Aidia’s room, plastering a smile and kicking his boots off at the door, crawling into her bed. She welcomed him as he curled up at her side, letting the thought of choices and choices and choices lull him into sleep. The turning of pages as she read was his metronome. Hollyhock didn’t want to die. Hollyhock wanted a lot of alcohol and maybe even some halo’er leaves.

Hopefully, Aidia didn’t notice how his eyes refused to focus and his limbs were too heavy. Gods, he just wanted to sleep. To sleep and maybe get that lingering taste of bitter herbs out of his mouth. That sounded like a good plan, even as the door clicked closed and Aidia nudged him, petting his hair to tell him that Marsh and Ahren were talking about going on a date tomorrow. Yeah. Good for them. Hollyhock made a sound that was probably something like assent and curled up tighter, submitting to the drain in his bones. It was nice to fall asleep being petted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks, i have a tumblr! https://madrastique.tumblr.com/  
> liked the story? leave a comment


	24. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> someone please tell Ahren what alcohol does

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "ah i see ur love of drinking games involving towers has returned" -editor. listen, how is it my fault that i love overly complicated tower-based drinking games
> 
> Chapter Warnings:  
> -awkward first dates  
> \- drinking  
> \- FOOLS

Dinner was going… fine. Yes. That was the word Ahren was deciding to call it. Fine. Marsh had actually dressed up a bit, putting on a nice, light-blue button up and comfortable looking pants that could be considered vaguely formal if Ahren squinted in the low light. Himself, he had worn his formal wear. A dark jacket over a white button-up, black slacks, and a dignified sword at his belt announced that he was taking this date seriously.

Surprisingly, it had been harder to find a nice restaurant in a mid-sized town than Ahren had initially thought, especially considering that it was on the cross-continental footpath. At the end of the day, he had just settled on  _ a _ restaurant serving food that they said was local. Well, that would have to do.

As Hollyhock was prone to saying, mostly when he was eagerly eating dinner, good food was good food and Ahren was just happy that he was certainly going to get fed tonight. He had gone in and spoken to the waitstaff, and they had gotten invested in the evening now. Apparently, there weren’t all that many people travelling through town that wanted to go on dates, never mind first dates.

So here he was, sitting at the table, having ordered a bottle of wine that the waitress recommended because that was what one did on dates, right? Maker, he didn’t understand why his mother was so partial to this, it tasted disgusting and made the inside of his mouth tingle. The way it pooled in his stomach made him feel a bit sick and there was a light fuzz in his mind, smoothing over his thoughts. He needed to sleep more, probably.

Marsh had gotten themselves a cup of grape juice and seemed to be having a nice time. Ahren hoped they were having a nice time. Ahren was going to go into the woods and drown himself if they weren’t having a nice time. The neutral expression on their faceas they snacked on the bread on the table was not helping his deduction.

“So,” he cleared his throat. The book had said that pleasant conversation was important, “how are you?”

Glancing up at him, they quickly swallowed the bread in their mouth. Idiot. Stupid. Why couldn’t Ahren do anything right. Let them eat before interrupting their peace of mind with an inane question. Maker help him, it was like Ahren had been raised under the floorboards, eating the scraps that fell through the slots in the wood. He was no better than swine—

“I’m fine, but we’ve spent the last three weeks together, I think I’d let you know if I wasn’t.” Their tone was easy as Ahren tried to see how quickly he could drink his cup before he started asphyxiating out of embarrassment.

Refilling his glass, Ahren nodded. “You, ah, you do tend to stand up for yourself.”

“This is delicious, you have to try it.”

They held out a piece of bread, and Ahren took it from their hand with thanks, careful to ensure that he wasn’t too presumptuous in letting their fingers brush. It was, in fact, delicious, soft and flaky. It was the best bread he had ever had in his life.

Marsh continued on as Ahren had a rapturous experience. “I don’t think I’ve been to a restaurant in years, not since I left my hometown.”

“I’ve never been to a restaurant.” He felt… good. Ahren felt good about this, about doing this. Maybe it was going to be okay. With a hesitant laugh, he kept talking. “I’ve never been on a date either.”

“I’ve had a couple.” Marsh took a sip of their juice, and Ahren took that as a cue to drink from his cup as well. The taste was starting to grow on him. “Oh, did you know that we’re only a day or so from another waypoint? It might be good to grab one and take a rest, shave off a week or so.”

“That is a  _ genius _ idea.” They were a  _ visionary _ .

With a shrug and a smile, they kept their voice steady. “I could catch up on my reading.”

“Oh? What are you currently looking through?”

Marsh lit up like Ahren had given them a castle of their own, hands flapping and bouncing excitedly. “So! There’s! There’s this  _ really _ interesting thing about medical magic! And it’s so cool! I can’t normally get it to go right for me and I don’t know why but that’s not important! I’ve been having a correspondence with someone in the margins--there’s this really cool magical effect in the binding, I think--and they were wondering if it’s because I’m from Centrailia or if it’s an issue with the flow of magic.”

Nodding along as they spoke, Ahren felt warmth fill his heart as he slowly drained the bottle, Marsh’s words and animated gestures a welcome sight. The waitress came back with their dinner, a buffalo flank steak with collard greens and a couscous side, and Marsh paused to thank her and begin eating. Making short work of his food, Ahren rested his chin on his hand as they explained topics more and more, talking about things that he had barely even considered possible.

“But my correspondent hasn’t heard of that thing when you make contact with someone and trade energy, I don’t know why, they think it might be because I’m Humanish.”

Ahren blinked at that. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s really intuitive, I don’t know why it’s not a spell.” Marsh continued like this wasn’t insane talk. “Here, I can show you.”

Before anyone could stop them, Marsh licked their knife clean and sliced a deep gouge into their palm. A wooziness overtook Ahren, his vision blurring as he jumped up, trying to protect them from themselves. And then, the cut began to glow a pale blue as burgundy blood dripped in reverse, back into the wound where it still touched Marsh’s skin. As the light faded, there was no trace of the slash.

“See? Nothing too horrible. Could I get a tea, please? I don’t care what kind.” That last part was said to the waitress, who had started for them when she saw what was happening. She obliged, returning quickly with a hot drink that Marsh accepted.

They were shivering, breath clouding up in front of them like it was the middle of winter. Other than that, though, Marsh was unharmed. Ahren let himself sit back down, vision still fuzzy at the edges and warmth still in his stomach. That was okay, that wasn’t a problem. He should talk more. Yes. Talking was good.

“So, what  _ is _ a Humanish?” Questions. Marsh liked to answer questions.

“It’s... Okay. When you breed enough species together, they end up averaging into something that looks kind of like a human, but with added features. Weird colors, horns, feathers, fangs, scales, all that kind of stuff. It’s a catch-all for ‘fuck if I know’ of a species. It kind of used to be derogatory but not anymore” Their leg swung under the table.

It took Ahren a second to process their words. He didn’t understand how someone could degrade Marsh, they were the smartest, most capable, most beautiful person he had met in his life. “Are they all as pretty as you?”

Marsh stuttered out a few syllables. “I—um—I haven’t actually met that many. Oh, I did treat a guy he was pretty interesting. Most people pay me in barters and this guy, Jei, he gave me this magically sterile needle that never runs out of thread. It’s really nice for stitching people up. Yeah, he was Humanish.”

Launching into a story that Ahren did his best to follow, Marsh told him all about how Jei had staggered up to their door and asked for sanctuary. He had been pretty out of it, Marsh described, and needed to have his neck ‘readjusted’. Ahren wasn’t going to ask. Marsh had also treated him for a concussion and a couple of gashes that had gotten deep into his thigh and neck. Even through the pleasant haze, it still made something turn in Ahren’s stomach. No matter, he just looked at Marsh, who was as radiant as the sun.

Anyway, whatever Jei was, Marsh hadn’t been able to tell. He’d had large eyes with black sclerae, one red and the other orange, with paper white skin and hair. The skin, they acquiesced, could have been the result of blood loss though. Marsh hadn’t recognized the style of clothing or his accent either. Maybe he was from off continent.

That wasn’t important, though. Marsh was perfect. They were so capable. Ahren would submit himself to Marsh’s treatment whenever anything would happen, they always knew how to fix him. They were so smart and nice and wonderful, and they fixed injuries so well that Ahren would forget which ankle he had twisted in a couple days rather than a week and a half, or which arm had a cut, or which leg had a bruise. They were a miracle worker. A miracle worker that was watching him as he looked at them with a smile, lost in thought.

“Oh, right, sorry.” Ahren stumbled through the words, trying to keep his focus. “I was just thinking about how good a medic you are.”

They laughed at that, and Ahren would raze cities for that sound. “I was just going to ask if you wanted to get back to the inn. I think Aidia and Holly mentioned that they were going to wait up for us.”

“As long as we aren’t sleeping outside again.” Ahren said, paying for the meal and getting up before Marsh could protest.

Sleeping outside was  _ so _ unpleasant, with how low temperatures were starting to drop during the night. One of these days, Ahren was going to lie down to sleep, freeze, and never wake up again. He didn’t understand how everyone else could tolerate it, being forced into sleep by the cold. Ugh. It was  _ so _ horrible to feel sluggish and confused as blackness and static crept at the edges of everything. Ahren wanted to nap.

On the way back to the inn, though, Ahren found himself wobbling and stumbling more than usual as he spoke with Marsh, laughing at their jokes. They even ended up taking his arm! It was a success! The stairs, though, were a bit harder. Marsh bid him to lean on them, and who was Ahren to deny them, especially when they were soft and gentle and warm and lovely.

As they entered the room, they were greeted by Holly, Aidia and several empty bottles of alcohol. The two of them were playing some sort of game on the floor with a ball and sticks in a line and they were stacking empty bottles, trying to throw coppers into them. It looked fun, even if Holly’s hair had come undone and Aidia’s shirt was falling off of one shoulder.

“ _ What _ are you two doing?” Marsh asked as if it wasn’t obvious.

As Hollyhock turned to face them, Ahren noted a wide smile and blush on his face, his shirt unbuttoned. “Acting on a bad idea, want to join in?”

“Yes, please.” Ahren clumsily sat down on the floor and was immediately handed a drink.

Marsh blinked at them all in disbelief. “Why?”

With a shrug, Holly tipped his head back, moving with loose, languid movements. Holly was so pretty. “Felt like it was time to do something stupid and Aidia agreed.”

The Aidia in question saluted them with her own alcoholic beverage and Ahren swore he was able to smell the acrid scent of alcohol in the half-full bottle. Sure, why not. Taking a sip from his, the liquid burned down his throat, lighting a fire in his stomach. It was so nice to finally feel  _ warm _ after weeks of journeying. What had he been anxious about again? Well, if he couldn’t remember then it wasn’t important.

“Where…” He coughed a bit, squinting at the unmarked bottle with the clear liquid in it. “Where did you get this?”

“Found it. Come on, let’s keep going. We’re in the second act of Strikers, you have to get the three-fleck into the bottle without knocking the stick off.” Aidia pointed at a large empty bottle that they had set up with a twig across the wide mouth and handed him a little copper coin.

Wait… alright… “What’s a three-fleck?”

“It’s—it’s the little copper coins. The official money.” She shook her head as if to clear it. “Anyway, you have to get it in, and if you miss completely, you have to take as many sips as the amount of misses—the amount of misses you’ve had and if you knock the stick over you have to finish the drink in your hand.”

“I don’t… okay…” He could figure it out.

As Marsh got ready for bed, the three of them kept playing. Ahren missed a lot, but it was alright because Holly and Aidia helped him figure out how much to drink, and, when the game entered the third arc, they didn’t have to throw things and it was more about making a tower with the bottles as high as they could on a table while someone counted backwards from one hundred by sevens and every time the counter hesitated, someone else would shake the table. If the counter got it wrong, the shaker could take a swipe at the bottle tower.

Marsh cut them off after some time, that, and they had finished up their stores. It was good to see Holly and Aidia having fun. As they cleaned up, leaning on each other for support, Hollyhock rested his head on Ahren’s shoulder. With a gasp, Aidia clapped her hands as an idea came to her.

“What if,” she stumbled over to her pack, taking out a couple of cylinders wrapped in paper with tails of string, “what if we set off some fireworks.”

“No!” Marsh shouted at the same time as Holly’s “Yes!”

Marsh’s words were careful as they guided Aidia’s hands to put the fireworks back into her pack. “No, we’re not doing that in the middle of the night in a town where we don’t know anyone. Why do you  _ have _ those.”

“They’re useful.”

They sighed. “I’m not going to ask. Why don’t you get ready for bed, wash up and everything.”

“You are  _ so _ smart, Marsh. Wait. Can we set off the fireworks tomorrow?” Aidia wobbled a bit as Marsh took her by the hand to the bathroom.

“Sure thing. Now go get clean or we’re  _ not _ allowed.”

As the door closed, Ahren felt the need to call out, “Aidia did you know you’re really pretty?”

She was. Aidia was  _ so _ pretty. Ahren loved… he… yeah. Holly bumped into him, grabbing his hands with a laugh and dragging him to the bed.

“I think you’re the  _ prettiest _ .” He hummed along the scales on Ahren’s neck.

Before Ahren could respond, Marsh ushered the two of them into bed. “No fucking tonight, go to sleep.”

They directed them into the bathroom to clean up as Aidia came out, and the four of them went to bed. It was nice, feeling Aidia at his back and having Hollyhock curled up against his chest. Having a wonderfully warm half-elf snoring quietly in his arms was the perfect life. Ahren wanted to go to sleep every day like this, surrounded by his friends. They were so nice. Yes.

Squishing Holly closer to him, Ahren noticed how soft he was. Holly was  _ so _ soft, especially recently. There was a layer of padding between his bones and his skin now that wasn’t just muscle. Hollyhock didn’t wake up as Ahren ran his hands along the planes of his stomach where his shirt had ridden up, marveling at the heat. The man was like a furnace.

A furnace that mumbled in his sleep, instructions to people named after numbers or plants. As Holly slurred phrases in another language into Ahren’s chest, drooling onto his shirt, Ahren let his eyes close. He wasn’t scared right now. This was good, this was perfect. Listening to Holly’s slow, even breathing, he felt himself relax and pulled the blankets up higher with clumsy motions.

Maker, Ahren was tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks, i have a tumblr! https://madrastique.tumblr.com/  
> liked the story? leave a comment


	25. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being a good person is important. Marsh disagrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we love being put on hold with our local pharmacy for 45 minutes and being led around in circles for an hour just trying to refill a prescription anyway here's the chapter bonus scene this week
> 
> Chapter Warnings:  
> \- Gore  
> \- Magical Gore  
> \- Eye Gore  
> \- Mouth Gore  
> \- Just all of the gore  
> \- Awkward Dragon Sex Talks

Crossing the Great Lake had been an… issue to say the least. Marsh hadn’t expected the wave of terror that hit them, rooting their feet to the shore. They were  _ not _ getting on a boat. Going around would have taken months, and, when Hollyhock urged them into a small canoe to show them that nothing was wrong, it lurched under their weight and Marsh had a panic attack. So Ahren had flown them. Marsh was  _ not _ going into the water.

On a different note, no one was allowed to decide anything hungover ever. They also weren’t allowed to take shortcuts through the woods anymore. This was Marsh’s official decree. How their three companions had managed to convince them that cutting through a bend in the footpath would be easier after they had landed on the far shore of the Great Lake, Marsh couldn’t begin to comprehend. The flight had taken a whole day, but, somehow, they had been talked into this horrible plan. Aidia had no business being so persuasive.

There had been a request printed on rough-looking paper in a town they had passed through asking for people to check up on a carriage that had been overturned. Ahren had insisted that this was a good deed and that doing good deeds would make them better people or something. Unfortunately, the people who had posted that request were not good people. So now, they were trying not to be killed and have their things stolen. Nice job all around.

The fight was going poorly. Aidia’s blood dripped from cuts, both deep and shallow. A slash on her left thigh had weakened the leg, slowing her movements. Even still, she fought, trying to defend herself with a dagger, Ahren’s shortsword that she had long-since commandeered, and several pounds of rage. Ahren himself was also doing well, though not many people would attack him in his dragon form. He snapped and clawed at people, generally being loud and big and scary, trying to shield his companions from the brunt of the blows as Marsh shot bolts from their crossbow.

Hollyhock was at the center of it all, playing and trying to alter the flow of the fight. Chords and notes echoed off of his fingers, sinking into the soil beneath them as the air filled with ozone and herbs. It wouldn’t be enough, everyone could see that. Scratches and open wounds dotted Hollyhock’s arms and legs and a gash on Marsh’s forehead poured blood into one eye, making it just that much harder to aim. One of their opponents, a human man, from what Marsh could see, drove a spear deep into Ahren’s left shoulder, foreleg buckling under the weight it suddenly couldn’t support.

Ahren roared and Marsh snarled. Aidia yelled something, trying to get the man away from him before anything more serious happened. Flaring out his wings, Ahren reared up, swiping at an elf woman trying to slash at him with a sword. The world seemed to shudder to a stop when Hollyhock let out a sound that was far closer to a scream than a song.

It wasn’t the voice of a humanoid that came out of his mouth. It was far closer to a violin or a fiddle, out of tune and distorted. Time stretched and slowed, clouds freezing in place and trees bending inward to listen. Holly’s eyes were half closed, eyepatch tucked into one fist, glowing a bright green. Spectral vines wrapped around his limbs, around his neck, tethering him to the ground.

He grinned, liquid leaves leaking out between his teeth and dripping onto the ground. Splitting his jaws into a laugh, branches grew up from the back of Hollyhock’s throat, straining to catch the sun in their leaves. Marsh’s legs were rooted to the spot, Aidia and Ahren too, frozen, heart racing. Their assailants, thieves and murderers, stumbled back, hands up.

And then, Hollyhock began the song in earnest. It wasn’t his voice anymore, it was a violin trying to speak, pulling consonants out of A strings and screams, weaving the bright, trembling lime of an E string into something mortals could understand. It hurt to hear, drilling and sharp. Hollyhock had made a knife out of sound, sharp enough to cut. A single voice overlaid a million times tumbled into Marsh’s head, begging, pleading for silence, for freedom, for a mercy that it knew it would never receive.

Toxic, verdant light bled into the ground, a spiderweb with Holly in the center. Glowing vines wrapped around the limbs of their foes, swerving around Aidia, Marsh, and Ahren. As the vines connected, faces split into screams and bodies thrashed, trying to get away. The vines  _ burned _ , not with heat or cold, but with hunger.

**Of the forest and to the forest,** whispered the still wind and creaking boughs,  **of the forest and to the forest.**

The vines were hungry—no, starving. Whatever was inhabiting Holly’s body was absolutely starving. Skin touching the vines boiled and bubbled like it was liquid, radiant chlorophyll green surging up through their veins. Limbs took on a sickly hue, moving of their own volition to scrabble at mouths to rip out tongues, tightened around throats, clawed at eyes.

It was nightmarish, it was monstrous. Hollyhock’s face had set in grim determination, like a god before the advent of time exacting its vengeance. A man’s hand ripped his jaw from his face, spreading the infection to his face. Red blood was overrun with green, leaves and blossoms blooming out from the back of his mangled flesh.

All in all, the fight was over in less than a minute. Body parts were strewn across the clearing, all in various states of overgrowth. The glow in Hollyhock’s eyes flickered and died as his face slipped into a blank slate. His eyes glazed over and the bass dropped from limp fingers. Knees buckling, Holly fainted onto a patch of moss, conveniently grown around him.

The world moved again, time reasserting itself. Exchanging a look, Aidia and Marsh picked up Hollyhock. He didn’t stir, a deadweight in their arms.

“What… what was that?” Ahren shook nervously, as if he could get the reek of magic off of all of him.

Marsh’s tone was simple as they focused on not injuring Hollyhock any more. “Fae magic. That’s how he got patroned, wasn’t it?”

“Worse.” Was all Aidia said, refusing to elaborate.

Together, Marsh and Aidia got Hollyhock onto Ahren’s back, Aidia slipping his bass over her head for safekeeping. Ahren let them clamber on, kneeling and doing that wing-shifting that he did when he was thinking about something. As Aidia situated herself and Hollyhock between Ahren’s shoulder blades, Marsh sat right behind his horns at the top of his neck. Getting up and spreading his wings, testing his balance and taking stock of the weight on his back, Ahren pulled himself into the air, circling in wide arcs.

“Which way?” There was still a bit of blood trickling from his shoulder, foreleg curled against his chest.

Marsh tapped their right leg against his cheek. “That way, up to the foothills. I think I see a town there.”

“It would be out of the way.” Aidia called out. “That’s at least an hour or so by  _ dragon _ .”

“I’d rather stop at a town with an inn, and they’re big enough to have an inn. Can’t see anything else for miles, nothing big enough, anyway.” Marsh twisted in their seat to look at her. “I want to take a look at everyone quickly, and that way’s quickly.”

Ahren rumbled in agreement. “I can fly us back, it isn’t a problem.”

Closing her mouth, Aidia nodded. “Right, yes. That’s reasonable, sorry.”

“It’s okay. We’re all stressed out.” Marsh turned back around as Ahren straightened out. “Thank you Ahren.”

“Yes, thank you Ahren.” Aidia mumbled. She slumped slightly, feeling the endorphins start to leave her. Laying back, she let herself watch the clouds.

Swinging their legs slightly, Marsh hummed quietly to themselves, running their hands over the skin in between Ahren’s horns. It was nice being able to take a breath. Ahren’s jaws split into a yawn, wings shifting slightly to get them into a better air current. Up here, there was only the wind and the quiet, the world far below them. Marsh really didn’t understand how people could have a fear of heights.

They leaned forward, laying down over the top of Ahren’s head. “Hey Ahren?”

“Hm?” It was more a curious rumble than anything.

“Are you small for a dragon? Because I was reading about them and my book says that ten foot at the shoulder and shorter is in the small size class.”

“I would like to think I am a perfectly acceptable size.” He sounded offended. Marsh didn’t want to offend him.

“I’m sorry?” They tried. “Was that rude to ask?”

“I just never considered it. I haven’t met many dragons.”

They hummed, pressing a kiss to the green scales. “How tall are you? I’m not good with heights.”

“Eight feet, seven inches.”

“And how old are you?” They sat up, getting their medical book out of their back, rustling through the pages to find the right chapter.

Ahren chuckled. “You’re going to drop that one day.”

“And you’ll swoop down to catch it. How old are you?”

“336 years, why?”

Marsh was already nose-deep in their book, looking through tables and charts. “Oh, okay! You’re around the same developmental age as me, human-base nineteen-ish. But it also says you—you’re from the Moonraker range, right?”

“I am.”

“Yeah, you should be twelve or fourteen feet at the shoulder.”

Ahren hummed. “Maybe I am just a small person, Marsh.” He changed the subject, ears flicking as he heard something that Marsh couldn’t. “You never speak about your family.”

“You never asked.” It was rude to talk about yourself. That was what Auntie had said.

With a bit of embarrassment, the tip of Ahren’s tail flicked. “Alright then, what  _ is _ your family like?”

“Um…” Marsh hadn’t had to describe their family in a long while. “I had my mom and my dad and my Ken—I mean his name was Korhacten but we called him Ken—and they were all half-elves. I had two older sisters and a younger brother.”

That was all they were going to say about Psam, Hes, and Four. The less they said the better, the safer they all were.

“We all lived in a small town in Centrailia with a bunch of other half-elves. Uh, what else? My mom was married to my dad and Ken, Dad was a farmer, Ken was a doctor, Mom was a seamstress? They died thirty years ago, though.”

“I’m so sorry.” There was genuine sympathy in Ahren’s voice. “Did Ken teach you?”

“He did and it’s okay, they were old and got sick and died. They were old when they adopted me anyway.” No use crying over buried bones.

Ahren made a noise of consideration. “How old  _ are _ you?”

“Around forty-eight, why?”

“I realized I didn’t know.”

Marsh hummed in assent. “Tell me about your family, it’s your turn.”

“Ah, alright.” He sounded like he was dreading it. “I was born to a mother of the Hzsii clan and a father of the Jarra clan. My father is a blue dragon and my mother red. I have six older sisters, aged from nine centuries to six centuries.”

“Aren’t you three? Centuries?” Marsh couldn’t help interrupting, doing the math in their head.

“That I am.”

They leaned forward again, curious. “Are any of your sisters green?”

Sighing, one of Ahren’s ears flicked. “No, they are all shades of purple. I actually, um, have a question.”

Marsh resisted the urge to touch his ears. They looked soft. “A heath question or a personal question?”

“Health. I, um, have been getting these weird feelings—”

“Ahren I am not the one you should be talking to for mental health.” Marsh was not a good therapist. Marsh was not a good midwife. Marsh was not a good psychiatrist. “You can describe it, but I might not know what it is or what the cause is.”

Ahren winced. “It’s… it’s almost like shame, but it isn’t? I feel this warmth, um, in my stomach a bit below. It… um… it makes me want to  _ do _ things, like you and Holly with the… you know…”

They blinked. “You mean arousal? Like, horniness? That’s normal.”

“Oh thank the Maker.” The words came out in a relieved rush. “Is this… something that is going to keep happening?”

Marsh shrugged. “I mean, I read in the book that Moonraker dragons usually start getting sexually active around three hundred. It’s the last bits of puberty.”

“Puberty?” Oh no.

Marsh’s tone grew serious. “You went through puberty, right? Your voice changed and your coloration darkened and you grew a lot?”

“Um…” His ears twitched again like he was thinking. “Not noticeably, no?”

“Ahren, I think you didn’t go through puberty.” Marsh hated this conversation. “It’s the stage between child and adolescent. You’re supposed to do it in your late two-hundreds.”

“But my voice is cracking  _ now _ _?_ And I’ve noticed that I’ve been growing some and gaining more muscle than I had before. It all started two months ago, after I was ill.”

“Oh my gods.” Marsh laughed. “Okay, I think you’re just… going through it faster than you should? And later than you should? You told me you used to be on medications, maybe one of them was interacting with your hormones. You’re fine, I promise.”

Closing their book and putting it back into their pack, Marsh draped themselves over Ahren’s neck and head again, yawning.

“Are you tired?” Ahren chuffed as the foothills slowly grew closer. At this rate, they had half an hour left or so.

Letting out a contented sigh against Ahren, Marsh hummed, tracing little shapes against the soft scales of Ahren’s neck. “No.”

Ahren purred out a laugh. “I shall let you know when we are about to land.”

“Thank you.” They mumbled.

Breathing slowly, Marsh let themselves rest. The ground passed below them, roads and trees and forest clearings. With any luck there would be a bathhouse in town. Marsh wanted nothing more than to treat themselves with something that wasn’t an inn bath or a river. All of them needed something to take their mind off of the dirt on their skin and scales. Gods, Marsh hoped that nothing was seriously damaged in Ahren’s shoulder. This is why they didn’t do nice things. Nice things usually meant someone got stabbed. It was simple logic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks, i have a tumblr! https://madrastique.tumblr.com/  
> liked the story? leave a comment or a kudos!


	26. Interlude II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You awake in a world unlike anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this ones short so yall get a twofer, comments and kudos are appreciated ;p happy beltane everyone!
> 
> Chapter Warnings:  
> \- Awkward Fae  
> \- None, really

Opening his eyes, Holly didn’t recognize the area around him. He was seated on the ground, wearing a long, white dress. There were no shoes on his feet and his hair hung loose down his back. Under him, the grass was soft, squishing wherever he disturbed it like the ground was a balloon filled with water. A breeze ran through the air, but instead of cooling, the wind was warm.

Alright. Odd, but sure. Looking around, Hollyhock found himself in a garden, lit by twin suns hanging in a spring-green sky, not a cloud in sight. The weather was temperate, like early summer, though the heat didn’t penetrate his core. At the edge, surrounding the garden in an infinitely wide ring, was an overcast, wintry forest. Fallen trees peeked out from underneath a thick layer of undisturbed snow. That sent a chill through Holly, the lack of any animal life.

He stood, moving through the world like it hadn’t realized he was here yet. As reality around him stabilized, Hollyhock was greeted with the sight of a white table in front of him, made of some kind of lattice metalwork, framed by an enclave, flowers, herbs, and vines making up the walls. It was set for two, with chairs made up of the same white metal. One was occupied by a familiar fae who sat, teacup in hand. Looking up, it waved its hand at the seat in front of it in a jagged, jittery motion when it saw him.

Suppressing a groan, Hollyhock forced his legs to move. The ground beneath him gave and swayed like it was alive. It was hard to walk here. Sliding into the seat provided for him, Hollyhock belatedly noticed the shaded parasol made of leaves above the table, keeping the two of them out of the sun. There was a blue liquid in his teacup and what looked like scones, if scones were described to someone, rather than shown.

The fae wore a long, white veil edged with scalloped lace over its face, naked save for that. Smooth limbs, the dark brown of bark, were articulated like a doll’s. Between the cracks of the joints, a vivid green light lit up its form from the inside. Its torso was flat, as if had been carved from a single plank of wood. Over where its heart should have been, there was an inverted triangle of three circles, a brand emanating a verdant light. Instead of hair, there were only leaves and branches.

As it drank, all it really did was lift the cup to its face in a simple, mechanical motion. The tea inside the cup stayed in place, like it had been glued down. Holly crossed his legs in his chair, tapping his fingers against the soft fabric of the skirt.

“Hi.” He didn’t have the energy for this.

The flowers behind the fae bloomed, what were those, mayflowers?

**Hello, my little thing.** It still hurt a bit when it spoke, too loud in a small space.

Great. Wonderful. Excellent. “Why am I here?”

It tilted its head far farther to the side than it should’ve been able to.  **You requested my assistance.**

“I did no such thing.”

**My Little Poison, you did. You called out to me for assistance and I helped. I** **_answered_ ** **.**

Crossing his arms, Hollyhock eyed the table setting, clearly meant to make him lower his guard. “I was casting and needed to keep myself and my friends from being killed.”

It nodded, seemingly happy with that answer.  **Yes, you had asked me for something more. I helped. I inhabited your form and let you cast as if you and I were the same.**

Chills ran down Hollyhock’s spine. “What—”

**I do not believe that I harmed any of yours. There were many present, honorable and not, but there were those who screamed and meant to harm your form. With those which you have kept an alliance with, I let be. You travel with such interesting company, my Little Poison.**

“Yeah, I do.” The liquid in his own cup moved when Holly picked it up, needing  _ some _ kind of normalcy. “If I drink this am I, like, bound to this plane forever or something? Do I starve to death or whatever?”

**No harm will come to you here.** Hollyhock got the impression that it was trying to smile behind its veil.  **I intended it to be a comfort. Like a painting.**

“Uh-huh.” Taking a sip of the light blue tea, it tasted like nothing with the faintest aftertaste of mint. “Maybe you could make it stronger next time, it’s kind of… blank.”

**I will make a note of it. I do not taste many things.**

“No it’s fine, really. I just wasn’t expecting it! It doesn’t taste  _ bad _ , just odd.” He set his cup down.

**The error was all mine. I will not repeat it in the future.**

Hollyhock hummed. “Oh! Before I forget, what do you want to be called? You know my name and I don’t have anything to call you.”

There was a pause, as if it were blinking at him.  **I had not given it much thought. I have called myself Something, as I am something.**

“Alright, then. Nice to meet you, Something.”

It laughed, the wind warm against Hollyhock’s cheek.  **Your kind is so interesting. Names hold such little power. Meanings are only as important as the effect of knowing them.**

“I mean, it’s caring about something that sets the value of knowing something, right?” Hollyhock shrugged. “So meaning is only as important as you think it is?”

A sense of pride filled the air.  **Wise words for one so young. For that, I am grateful. As for your original question as to why you are here, please allow me to answer.** It mirrored the way Hollyhock leaned back in his seat to get more comfortable, moving in stuttery jerks.  **I thought that, as your physical form recovers from the strain such an activity put on it, you and I would find it pleasant to properly speak with one another.**

“Uh-huh.” Picking up the teacup, Hollyhock took another tentative sip. At least nothing was hurting too bad, and it was generally fine the way Something spoke, now that he was acclimating to it.

**So,** it was almost like it was clearing its throat,  **how have your travels been?**

“Fine, really. Nothing too exciting. We’re probably going to get to the capital in a couple of weeks.”

It tried to lace its fingers together, moving as if it were being puppeteered by invisible strings.  **That is good to hear. Do you find your companions to be satisfactory?**

“I, uh, I do.” A thought came to him. “Wait, where is here?”

**This is my domain.** It said simply, like it was obvious.

Okay…? “But what’s beyond the forest? The frozen one?”

**That is not my domain, so I do not know.**

“Can’t you leave?”

Hollyhock got the sense that he was being well and truly seen. It was… uncomfortable, like someone pulling aside a curtain he had spent so long suspending.  **No, I cannot. If I am summoned, I do not have as much control over my powers. It spills, in layman’s terms. It spills and has the possibility to damage other life forms. I apologize for the harm I have caused you, as it was not my intention.**

“It’s…” Holly’s fingers ghosted along his cheekbone, feeling the ridges of the scar underneath. “It’s fine.”

**It isn’t. I did not conduct myself with courtesy and care. I was not aware of how delicate your form was, and that led to injury. For that, I apologize and hope that you will grant me forgiveness and clemency when I have earned it.**

“It… it isn’t fine, you’re right. But that’s okay. Thank you, I—um—didn’t expect an apology.” Holly tried putting on a smile. “I’m sorry for being rude, I thought you were just being cruel.”

It managed to look taken aback, the flowers in its hair closing. Holly was pretty sure the little yellow ones were calliopsis. A hand fluttered to its mouth in sharp, aghast jerks.

**I would** **_never_ ** **, not to my own.**

“The scarring was a mixed signal.” Holly’s leg bounced. “Just a bit.”

It nodded, completely serious.  **I will not let it happen again. If there is something that you wish to ask of me in exchange for the damage I have already caused, I implore you to name it. I will rectify the error.**

“Uh,” he actually had to think about this for a moment, “nothing really comes to mind, maybe a bit more control or understanding about how to  _ use _ magic.”

**Consider it done.** It clasped its hands together in its lap, the calliopsis blooming again.  **Would meeting like this weekly be amenable to you?**

“I don’t see a problem with that, um, I guess you could try out some new recipes if you’d like. I don’t have any… dream… allergies…” Were dream allergies a thing? If Holly died in his dream, did he die in the waking world?

Something just clapped its hands together, excitedly.  **Wonderful! I will seek to make this a pleasant experience.**

Cool. Okay. So this was happening now. What else was there to lose?

“So, um, how’s your week going?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks, i have a tumblr! https://madrastique.tumblr.com/  
> liked the story? leave a comment


	27. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's get those wounds looked at, huh?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay aidia chapters!
> 
> Chapter Warnings:  
> \- mild nudity  
> -trauma talks (tm)

It was officially agreed: Hollyhock was  _ not _ allowed to do magic like that anymore. Not if it meant he lost control and incapacitated himself like this. Aidia was going to insist that he practice more, because whatever he did, it had been horrifying and dangerous and had knocked him clean out. Marsh helped Aidia carry Holly into an inn, sitting him down in a chair. Going to check them in, Marsh had taken the coin purse with them.

Hollyhock didn’t seem like he would be waking up anytime soon. There was a cut on his face that had bled a green fluid. Aidia hesitated in touching it, who knew what it  _ actually _ was, considering what his magic had done to other people. He was breathing shallowly, though he had been doing that for the whole flight. Marsh said not to worry about it and that they would be able to see what they could do when they checked in and settled down.

It wouldn’t be too hard to get a room, if Aidia was being honest with herself. Most of the people in town had watched with awe as Ahren landed and the staff still threw him a few glances out of the windows. None of them had escaped unscathed, her leg ached where she had been cut. It wasn’t taking weight properly, but Marsh promised a fix to that when they got upstairs. The slash above their eye had finally stopped bleeding, which was nice, but they hadn’t bothered to wipe away the blood from half of their face.

Not that Ahren was much better off. If anything, he was worse. There was a wound on his shoulder that had gone clean through the muscle and he was having trouble walking on that foot. Other cuts lined his arms and legs, dark gold blood beginning to scab over. Anxiously, he licked at where the blood was still flowing and Aidia could see him starting to rub his scales raw. As Marsh got the room and picked up Hollyhock like he weighed nothing, they requested that Aidia get Ahren inside.

And yes, Ahren was still outside. The last thing he wanted to do was change out of dragon form in such a public place. Aidia was sure no one would care, but there would be no convincing Ahren. She didn’t have the energy to argue with an eight-foot-tall dragon, so she acquiesced. He paced the backyard of the inn, over and over, tail whipping behind him and wings trying to find a comfortable spot on his back.

Right, he wouldn’t switch back without a covering. Smiling at the woman at the counter, Aidia let her weight lean onto the desk. “Hello, Miss, I was wondering if you would have a large sheet?”

“A sheet?” She looked a bit confused, brows drawing together.

“My friend in the backyard, he would like to change back but would rather not be naked in public.” Her words were easy, friendly. Hopefully this woman wouldn’t come away thinking Aidia was like a typical orc.

She smiled back and nodded. “Of course.” Pulling on a string behind her labelled storeroom, she signaled to Aidia that it might take a moment.

Soon enough, a door behind the counter opened and a human man with the roundest cheeks poked his head out. “You rang, Jun?”

“Yes, I did. This young woman here would like a spare sheet to help cover up her friend in the backyard, we have something for that, don’t we?”

The human leaned out and, upon seeing an eight-foot-tall, fifteen-foot-long dragon pacing anxiously, sucked a breath through his teeth. “Does it have to be able to cover him entirely? Because I might have some issues with that.”

Aidia shook her head quickly. “Oh, no, sorry! It just needs to be big enough for a six-foot-tall person.”

He nodded, a smile breaking over his face. He had laugh lines. Aidia’s mother didn’t have laugh lines. “Six feet, that I can do. I’ll be back in a tick.”

Not ten seconds later, he reappeared, a light blue bedsheet in his hands. Aidia accepted it gratefully.

“Thank you so much, I’ll get our dragon out of your yard, now.”

The woman and man laughed, wishing her luck on her noble endeavor. As she stepped into the backyard, Ahren turned quickly, tail just narrowly missing the fence. There was barely enough room for him, especially considering the vegetable garden he was trying his best not to trample. He held one leg above the ground, the injured one. Aidia held still as he padded over to her, sitting down and wrapping his tail around his paws, watching her expectantly.

“Hi, Ahren. How are you feeling?” She kept her voice friendly as she slowly unfolded the cloth and took steps towards him.

His head tilted, “I’m not an animal, Aidia, I am fine. I may be a bit hurt and not enjoying the people staring at me, but I do not require trapping.”

“Right, sorry.” With a nod, Aidia adjusted her behavior, moving less like a veterinarian with a wild animal and more like she was speaking with a person. “Can you come closer? It’s still hard for me to walk, Marsh was talking about stitches.”

“Oh, of course.”

Ahren rose, moving forward in careful, limping steps, doing his very best not to step on anything important. As he entered arm’s reach, Aidia tentatively lifted a hand. She didn’t want to get bitten. It didn’t matter how much Ahren spoke about being perfectly in control in this form and how calm he looked now, Aidia still couldn’t trust something with teeth the size of her pinky finger. Not that any of that mattered to Ahren. He nosed her palm, giving her forearm a lick with a tongue that felt a bit like sandpaper.

Well, that wasn’t the expected action. Patting the top of his head, Aidia noticed how soft his scales were. “Transform and I’ll cover you with the blanket.”

He hesitated, kneading the ground with his back paws. “Who has my clothes?”

“Marsh does, we have a room.” She removed her hand from his head, getting the cloth ready. “Come on, I wouldn’t want your shoulder to get infected.”

“Will there be dinner? I am  _ starving. _ ”

The way he said it made Aidia want to get far, far away. The back of her head warned her that he had already had a taste. Tamping those thoughts down, Aidia reminded herself of the reality of it all. Ahren was a scrawny, undernourished dragon who would sooner fall out of the sky than hurt her.

“Alright,” she gave him a pleasant smile, “I can ask as we go up.”

He perked up, wagging the tip of his tail. “Truly?”

“Yes, now come on, it’s best not to keep Marsh waiting.”

Nodding his head, Ahren let himself transform. It was fascinating to watch, his body becoming a white light, not glowing, but a flat expanse of blank. It clung to the edge of his form as he turned from dragon to humanoid. Aidia threw the blanket over Ahren as the light faded, and he quickly fumbled to cover as much skin as he could. When all was said and done, Aidia still found it rather endearing that he was a few inches shorter than her.

“Thank you.” He said, rising. “Here, you can lean on me if need be, I won’t mind.”

“Oh, it’s no problem at all.” Aidia waved his worries aside, ignoring how her leg ached.

As they walked inside, Ahren close to her side, Aidia thanked Miss Jun for her sheet and asked if there was anything that Ahren could eat. She was certain she could hear his stomach growling.

“Hm,” she thought for a moment, “we have a mountain goat in the cold box, if you eat meat. It isn’t a commonly served food, so we don’t really have all that much we can do with it before it spoils. If you would like some, I would be more than happy to have it cooked and sent up, consider it on the house.”

He lit up like Miss Jun had promised him a castle. “That would be wonderful, thank you so much!”

“Of course, consider it done.” She smiled, pulling on the string labelled ‘kitchen’ as they made their way upstairs.

There was actual hunger glinting in Ahren’s eyes. He wasn’t focused, thinking about the meal he was about to eat as he followed her, a smile slowly creeping onto his face. That was both new and unsettling, the way the words Aidia said to him glanced off of his head, the way he ran his tongue over his teeth like a predator waiting for a prey animal to impale itself on his claws. With a tentative nudge, Aidia got his attention as they made their way to their assigned room.

When they entered, the two of them were greeted with the sight of Marsh finishing up getting all the plant matter out of Hollyhock. It was a disturbingly large amount, leaves piled up next to them as they used tweezers. Glancing at Ahren and Aidia, Marsh jerked their head to a chair that they had been using to store their medical kit.

“Just sit down wherever, I’m almost done with this. Aidia, are you still bleeding?”

“Not too badly.” She didn’t really want to look. “I can walk, but it hurts.”

They hummed. “Go wash it out, then. There’s some ointment in the bathroom from me.”

“Sure thing. I’ll leave the door open if anyone needs the sink.”

“Okay. Ahren, let me see your shoulder after this, I want to see if transforming damaged it any more.” They set their tweezers down, checking over Hollyhock again. “Most of his cuts have scabbed up already, so there isn’t really all that much I can do.”

As Aidia ran a bath for her leg, Marsh crossed over to Ahren, giving the wound a quick look before they washed their hands and wet a towel. Ahren made himself comfortable, leaning his wings against the wall as Marsh dabbed at the skin with a towel, all but sitting in his lap. Without thinking, he pulled their hair back out of their face with his free hand. It was kind of cute.

Grimacing, Aidia got most of the blood and dirt off of her leg, exposing a wound that was slowly scabbing over. That was going to scar, but she was going to live. Washing her hands and dabbing some ointment on, she exited, limping. Marsh turned their head, beckoning her over and wrapped it in gauze. With a thank you and a kiss to the top of their head, Aidia sat against the wall, fishing her notebook out of her pack. Creator, she was tired.

“You were walking,” Marsh mumbled under their breath to Ahren, “so it didn’t have a chance to fully close up. Your wound.”

Nodding in acknowledgement, Ahren nervously shifted his wings, one moving easier than the other. As Marsh pulled the sheet down lower, Ahren simply let it fall to his lap, exposing himself. A light blush dusted his scales as Marsh leaned in, fingers careful. There was an angry red hole where the spear had punched through the meat of his shoulder and, as Marsh had said, flying and pacing hadn’t done it much justice.

Taking a deep breath, Marsh’s eyes glowed blue as the skin around the wound began to close. Like a switch had been flipped, they stopped. Before anyone could say anything, Marsh moved Ahren’s wing, revealing a deep gouge. It had come unsettlingly close to tearing through tendons and arteries, leaving him with only one working wing. Ahren hadn’t said anything, hadn’t even faltered in his flight. As Marsh scolded him, speaking quietly enough that Aidia couldn’t pick out the words, they refocused themselves, letting the magic return to their form.

Ahren’s wounds knit closed slowly, carefully. Marsh was going slower, steadier than they normally did. They were using magic more frequently, Aidia noted. Not for the little things, but for big wounds. They were practicing as much as Hollyhock, really, trying to figure out how to properly wield it. Why someone unpatroned was able to cast without a complex runic set-up, Aidia didn’t know.

They left the wound slightly unhealed, the skin whole but still a bit red. Clouds of Marsh’s breath broke on Ahren’s skin as they slowly got their shivering under control. Aidia’s leg didn’t ache. Brushing her fingers against where the gauze was, she found that there wasn’t the tell-tale sting of a cut. Interesting. Very interesting. As they recovered, Marsh ran their hand along the webbing of Ahren’s wing, drawing a shudder out of the man.

“Anything else you want me to look at?” They asked like it was the easiest thing in the world.

A patch of dark green bloomed across Ahren’s cheeks. “No, thank you very much for all you’ve done for me.”

“Want me to help you wash up, or are you going to wait until after dinner?”

He cast his eyes to the floor, voice all humble and sweet. “I would prefer to wash after dinner, if that is acceptable to you.”

With a shrug, Marsh pressed a kiss in between Ahren’s shoulder blades. The man jerked, like he hadn’t expected this level of affection to be randomly bestowed upon him. Blushing heavily, he flattened his the rough scales on the back of his neck tight against his head, as if looking smaller would minimize some of the wide-eyed shock and embarrassment he felt. Marsh just laughed at that, patting his head as they stretched out their limbs.

“Okay, I’m going to patch myself up in the bathroom because I need a mirror. Call me if the food comes.” Taking their kit with them, the bathroom door closed, and water began to run.

It was quiet in the room, very quiet. There was no Hollyhock to chatter about nothing in particular with or Marsh to mutter things under their breath as they took notes in their book. Just Aidia and Ahren. And the quiet. Now that she thought of it, Aidia was rather sure there hadn’t been a lull like this in their entire journey—it had been filled with talking or shuffling or walking or  _ some _ form of noise that surrounded them all. It was… odd how quickly she had grown used to the ruckus.

Ahren rose from his seat, collecting his clothes from Marsh’s pack and changing into them, moving with slow, practiced movements. He folded the sheet up, laying it on top of the drawer before he lifted Hollyhock up and into the bed, resting his head on a pillow. Draping a green blanket over him, Ahren made sure he was comfortable, brushing dark hair out of his face. Creator, Hollyhock looked so small and pale.

“That was awfully kind of you.” Aidia kept her head down as she spoke, continuing on with her writing.

Glancing at her, Ahren backed away like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch the man he was in a relationship with. “He would have woken up sore and in pain. I would rather he be comfortable.”

“You’re a very kind person.”

He laughed a short, harsh bark at that. “I’m not.”

“You are.” It was enviable. “Why wouldn’t you be?”

The way Ahren held himself, the tight smile on his face, the way his wings pressed closer into his back screamed that the last thing he wanted was to talk about it. Lifting her eyebrows, Aidia challenged that. She closed her journal and fixed her posture just like her mother would have told her to. Ladies didn’t win arguments with bent backs. Ahren sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall, wings tucked in as much as he could get them.

Of course, Aidia won in the end. It was inevitable. Inevitable and funny that a half-orc like her had been trained in this type of reckoning better than a man that was meant to be a diplomat, representing his entire family. He hadn’t been painting a very good picture of himself as a capable, level-headed delegate this entire journey. If anything, it was a small wonder Ahren had been sent and not anyone more adept.

“I’m not a good person, Aidia.” He was saying. “It doesn’t please me to speak of this, but if it makes you happy, then fine.” He avoided looking at her, staring off into a corner as he drew his knees up to his chest. “I have tricked you into thinking that I’m a useful, valuable member of society. I’m more than aware that I’m a disappointment that learned how to act well enough to avoid being culled. Are you happy now?”

Well, that was a depressing sentiment. “No, I’m rather not.” She tapped her foot to the beat of a song Hollyhock had sung for them a couple of times, one about revenge and revolutions.

Ahren turned to face her, and Aidia could see disbelief and frustration in his eyes. That was the most negative emotion he had ever directed at any of them. Oh, she had overstepped. Aidia knew that, but now, there were three hundred thirty-six years of self-hatred and repression behind that stare. She had no choice but continue, praying that Ahren would at the very least listen to a peace offering. Her mother would be so disappointed at her folly.

“I’m not happy, because your answer is incorrect. I do not believe that your sources would be accepted in an academic setting.” Smiling at him, Aidia tried her best to signal some semblance of humor, to at least get an irritated chuckle.

He didn’t bite. “If you  _ really _ want to know so much about me, Aidia, then fine. I’ll be a good sport.” For the first time, Aidia noticed an accent to his words, a slight sharpening of the sibilants, previously voiced consonants becoming unvoiced in his mouth. It only came out when Ahren was angry, it seemed, this hint of his native language. “I have been a disappointment since the moment I was born, and I will be one until the day I die. My mother has made it abundantly clear what the world thinks of me, and if you are  _ so _ eager to string me along, at least give me hope about something believable.”

His jaw snapped shut, arms wrapping tight around his knees. There was just silence between them, water running faintly in the bathroom. Hollyhock breathed even and slow, dead to their world and ignorant of the argument thrown across the room. This was… a miscalculation. A miscalculation on Aidia’s part. This was her fault, and she would have to atone for it.

“Your mother actually said that to you?” The attempt at humor was gone, replaced with a pang of sympathy.

Sniffing, Ahren swiped a hand harshly against his eyes. Aidia hadn’t noticed that he had started crying. “Yes. They did.”

“She sounds like a horrible person, and I hope that I never have the misfortune to meet her.” She let her gaze drop. “My family wasn’t the best either.” An olive branch.

“Really?” He sounded so small and young.

Aidia’s chuckle was darker than she expected. “I never knew my father, he died when I was ten years old, but he had decided that my mother and I weren’t meant to exist. My mother was a scheming harlot and I was a blight on the land, at least, that was what she conveyed to me.”

“Doesn’t sound like a very pleasant person, if I may say so myself.” Some of the tension eased out of his shoulders, words tentative, like Ahren was worried that she was going to slap him for voicing an opinion.

“My mother or my father?”

He stiffened up, trying to find the right answer. Before he could, Aidia kept speaking.

“My mother did her best, but not being allowed to leave the house until I was eleven was… probably not what most healthy relationships are. My father was rather high ranking in the court, so she tried to raise me as Elven as possible.” That hadn’t worked out, now had it. “That also included the parts about elves being the ideal species.”

“I’m sorry.” Glancing at her out of the corner of his eyes, there was sympathy in Ahren’s face. “That was during Essren’s reign, right?” More than he could ever know.

“It was.” New topic of conversation. “Queen Malaidor is certainly… different.”

Ahren tilted his head. “Do you not like her? I was under the impression that the opening of borders and the social reforms were well-welcomed.”

Shrugging, Aidia let it be. “It isn’t that I don’t support her—I do. I just worry that she would go back on her word the moment it becomes more profitable. There was great prosperity in the beginning or Essren’s reign, too, people don’t become despots overnight. I worry that she will go the same way and that people will be unwilling to stop her because she’s Queen Malaidor the Liberator, or whatever her epigraph will be.”

“You’ve thought a lot about this, court life and politics.”

Clicking her tongue against her teeth, Aidia winced internally. He wasn’t  _ wrong _ . “I guess I do. My mother had high hopes for my becoming a member of the court, so I had the education for it.” And then some.

“Is that why you want to go to Dalitar? To speak with Queen Malaidor about joining the court?”

No, Aidia wasn’t going to the capital to try to break into that closed-circuit system. “In a way.”

“You would be a good advisor.” Ahren’s voice was soft, like he was trying not to offend her. “You’re quite levelheaded and a good listener.”

Aidia was going to be far more than an advisor. She smiled anyway, friendly and gentle. It was still Ahren, after all, and she had found herself nursing a soft spot for him, even if he was a bit soft hearted. Seeing the good in people was a trait Aidia had been born without, but it was impressive that Ahren still braved the trials and tribulations of trust for every person he met.

“Thank you, Ahren. It means a lot, truly, coming from you.”

Aidia was going to remember this when she was in power, how Ahren did well with calming people down. He would be a good mediator. An endearing person to have on staff, and it would do well to show that she allied herself with the Draconic Autonomous Region. The Elven Queen was going to have to send troops there sooner or later, there were stirrings of tension and rebellion coming from an area called the ‘Seven Peaks’. True, Aidia might not know where that was, but rebellions needed to be put down.

“Aidia, may I ask a question?” Ahren’s voice broke her out of her reverie.

Yes, the conversation. “Of course, Ahren.”

“Why are you really here?” Oh.

A direct question was unlike him. Hollyhock and Marsh must be rubbing off. “I’m sorry?”

“Why are you on this journey, if not to attend the Queen’s court? What use was it to you to uproot your life and travel across the country for months on end?” His claws ran along the hem of his pants, trying not to tear the fabric.

“I’m supporting Marsh.” It was true. “And it wasn’t like I had much of a home to uproot. I very much want to meet the royal family and see the country.” Not a lie. “Is that not a good enough answer?”

Ahren sniffed, picking at a loose scale on his leg. “No, it isn’t. It makes no sense.”

Smiling innocently, Aidia tried to ignore the way her heart pounded in her chest. No one could know. They would stop her. They would hate her. “Well, I’m sorry dear, but that happens to be the answer. Plain and simple.”

“Mhm.” At least he was willing to drop the conversation, if that was the correct takeaway from Ahren straightening one leg and turning his head to look outside the window, turning his thoughts over.

The sun was setting, the last rays of light bathing the room in a deep orange hue. There was the smell of food drifting up from downstairs, it would be dinner soon. Ahren was still, letting the warmth into his bones through the glass, eyes half shut. He looked tired, very tired. And he should be, he had flown forty miles on an empty stomach with two serious wounds.

Aidia felt… bad. Her emotions roiled in her stomach, turning it from what should have been the tantalizing aroma of cooking meat. A voice in the back of her head made it abundantly clear that she was betraying them, actively hurting them by not telling them her actual intentions. They had all been so candid with her, and what had Aidia done? Let them believe lies and assumptions that were so far nicer than the truth?

After all this time, what could she do, really. There had been a window of opportunity to tell them, and she was at least a month past it. Informing her companions, her  _ friends _ that she had more of a right to sit on the throne than Queen Malaidor was a crucial fact that Aidia had withheld for far too long. And there was a word. Friends. Her first friends. Her last friends, presumably. Her only friends. It… hurt to think of that. It hurt deep in Aidia’s chest to think about how Ahren, Holly, and Marsh would abandon her when they found out the truth.

There was only forward to go. Ready or not. Consequences could be managed. Aidia had lived twenty-five years without friends, what was a century more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks, i have a tumblr! https://madrastique.tumblr.com/  
> liked the story? leave a comment


	28. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh sweet and merciful gods, everything hurts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hotted? hotted spring?
> 
> Chapter Warnings:  
> \- the obligatory hot springs chapter  
> \- mild nudity  
> \- rip poor holly

Hollyhock was not having a good time. He had woken up in a room he didn’t recognize, feeling incredibly nauseous and like he’d just been run over. Staggering out of bed and waking up the other three, he had dragged himself into the bathroom and proceeded to vomit up leaves and glowing green sap for the next two hours. He hated this. This was probably worse than the last time he had a stomach bug. Nope, nope it was worse. It was viscerally unpleasant to have to pick the remains of branches out of his throat.

Kneeling next to him, Ahren rubbed gentle, tentative circles into Holly’s back as he heaved. It was like he was worried whether or not Holly wanted him to be there. In all honesty, Hollyhock was more focused on something else. The retching was painful, and it sounded like it—rasping gasps sucked down between leaves, the fear of never getting another breath. Tears ran down Holly’s cheeks, not out of sadness, but from the simple ordeal he was putting his body through.

Marsh had been preparing a medication for him, waiting until Holly could keep something down while Aidia secured… something. Holly hadn’t been paying attention. Mercifully, the vomiting ended, though, and he was able to choke down a bottle of something that Marsh had thrust into his hand. It settled his stomach somewhat, and, on shaking legs, he rinsed his mouth out and cleaned himself up somewhat.

Hollyhock was  _ cold _ . It felt like he was slowly freezing to death and hollow, drifting in a sea of disorientation and aching limbs. Wandering into the main room, the world swam around him. Somewhere left of his elbow, Ahren was buzzing around, asking Hollyhock questions that were lost to the sound of blood rushing in his ears. Marsh’s hand was on his back, guiding him forward to… some place. If Hollyhock could be frank, he didn’t really care where he went, so long as it was vaguely horizontal.

A hand at his arm pulled him into Aidia’s lap and Hollyhock let it happen. Resting his cheek against his shoulder, Holly’s eyes started to drift closed before something bumped up against his lips. With a groan, he jerked his face away, hiding in Aidia’s skin. More hands. Why couldn’t they just let him sleep. Holly wanted to rest, he wanted the room to be dark he wanted to be left  _ alone _ . Even still, fingers in the hairs on his nape made him twitch like a man stung by a hactor bee, eyes shooting open and Ilvoni “no”s on his lips.

“Don’t touch me. I don’t want it—don’t—!” Hollyhock shut his jaw, cutting off the string of Ilvoni. He wouldn’t be repeating that in Trade.

Noises of placation. He was fine. He was okay. Bell was far enough away from him, physically and temporally. He was never going to see her again, and that was okay. Hollyhock was okay. Blearily, shakily, he was aware of his companions murmuring around him, a raspberry in Aidia’s hand, moved away from his mouth. With slurred motions, Hollyhock brought Ahren’s fingers where they had frozen, still hovering above his skin, to a better spot in his hair, cradling the back of his head. That seemed to break the tension, Marsh resting their hand on his stomach.

“You have to eat.” Their words were quiet and in Trade. “You’ll feel worse if you don’t.”

Opening his mouth with a groan, the berry was placed on his tongue and Hollyhock swallowed without chewing it. Another pressed against his lips, and the cycle repeated into blackness, the void overtaking him again as Aidia held him close and Ahren ran his hands reverently through Holly’s hair and Marsh held his hand like they were scared he was going to disappear. That was dumb. Why would he disappear. He was too tired to leave.

The next thing Holly remembered was morning. As light from the window slashed across his eyes, he was forcibly brought back to the land of the living. A tangled knot of limbs and bodies surrounded him, skin and scales and hair all melding together in a softly breathing pile, all curled around each other like sleeping puppies.

Ahren’s chin rested atop his head, blearily nuzzling into the warmth without waking. At some point in the night, Aidia had thrown her arm over Hollyhock’s torso, pulling him and, consequentially, Ahren closer into Marsh, who was snoring quietly against his chest. They made little twitches in their sleep, like they were running from something. Or to something. With a snort and an unintelligible mumble, Marsh pushed their face further into Hollyhock like he was a comfort to them.

They all looked tired, so tired. There was a bandage around Ahren’s shoulder and a slowly healing bruise on Marsh’s cheek. Aidia’s hair was a golden halo around her head, splayed out on the pillow as she buried her face into the back of Marsh’s head, leaning her forehead against Ahren’s snout. Marsh was drooling onto Hollyhock’s shirt as they slept and Aidia mumbled about things in Higherspeak. Behind him, Ahren made quiet chirps, high pitched and short.

It was soothing, to wake up like this, to be held and hugged and loved like his friends were afraid he would vanish if they weren’t there to keep him on this plane. Hollyhock could understand that sentiment, to be so scared of being alone, that exhausting stress of worrying over how long it would take before people left. He wasn’t going anywhere.

His stomach, on the other hand, had a different opinion. Tired of waiting around for something to fill it, it growled loudly as it gnawed at his lowest ribs. Marsh made a sleepy noise and pressed their hand directly into a bruise on Hollyhock’s side. He minimized the amount he flinched at that, trying not to wake anyone up. Too late, apparently.

Marsh’s face screwed up, eyes closing tightly and nose scrunching as they stretched out, easing into wakefulness. As they moved, Aidia groaned softly, lifting her head just enough to rub at her face, trying to push sleep out of her mind. Ahren yawned behind Holly, shifting his wings to wake up the muscles and tendons, squeezing Hollyhock closer into his chest as he made deep rumbling noises. Cracking their eyes open, Marsh detangled themselves as Aidia propped herself up.

“Good morning. You’ll be happy to hear that you haven’t destroyed another town.” Her voice was hoarse from sleep.

Hollyhock opened his mouth to speak but, much to his dismay, nothing came out. Frowning, he freed his hands to sign. ‘I didn’t know that was going to happen.’

“It wasn’t  _ that _ bad this time.” Marsh closed their eyes, pushing into the space his arms had vacated, pressing themselves against his body.

Sucking his breath through his teeth, Ahren was presumably wincing. “It was pretty bad.”

‘What did I do this time?’

Aidia ran a hand through Marsh’s hair. “A little bit of possession, not anything major. Holly, did you know that you can control vines and overtake people’s bodies.”

Oh. He had lost his appetite. ‘Sorry.’

“It isn’t your fault.” Tucking a lock of his hair behind his ear, Aidia’s eyes were soft. “How are you feeling, by the by?”

‘Like I died and came back.’

Ahren hummed. “Marsh has assured us that you didn’t die.”

He let Aidia rub his snout playfully, making little chirpy noises. His voice was getting a bit deeper, cracking a bit more, Hollyhock had to notice. Maybe it was going to settle sooner rather than later, a tone that could be felt through Ahren’s chest. Holly’s stomach, though, had woken back up and redoubled its complaints. As he tried to prop himself up on his elbows, Ahren’s arms tightened around him.

“No,” he whined, “you’re so warm!”

‘You’re always cold and I’m starving to death!’ Feathering Ahren’s face with kisses, Hollyhock was freed.

Marsh groaned and grumbled, but sat up anyway, rubbing at their eyes. Beside them, Aidia dragged herself into a seated position, dragging the blanket with her, much to Ahren’s complaints. As she swung her legs over the side of the bed, Ahren freed Hollyhock, rolling out of bed and giving his bones a nice stretch, wings flaring out behind him. Holly batted them out of his face with gentle movements, pressing his forehead against Marsh’s. They gave his cheek a kiss as he pulled back, standing on shaky legs.

From his vantage point, Hollyhock could watch Marsh get up and wander to the window. The sky was overcast, a filter of grey turning the sunlight into a diffused aura. A chill crept into his bones, winter was sneaking up on them all, even this late into the fall. It almost always snowed earlier, but those were the mountains, maybe the second month of the harvest season was kinder to the Plainlands. They still had a few weeks before the first real snow blew in, if the gods were merciful. If Ktarionh was merciful, that is.

Stripping out of his sleepwear and putting on proper clothing, Hollyhock found the soft fabric of his shirt a comfort. He would need his jacket, too, the sturdy brown thing made of canvas and wool. It may have been a bit too warm for the weather, but beggars weren’t choosers, and Hollyhock wasn’t going to complain. It had been enough that he was able to trade for them.

Aidia passed him on her way to the attached bathroom, draping his pants over his shoulder. Right. Pants. Those were important. Tugging them on, he quickly realized that they were, as a matter of fact, not his. Unphased, Holly cuffed them and tightened the belt, making do. They were probably Ahren’s if anything, all of their clothing was mixed among them anyway. Marsh was already finished and trying to get a brush through their hair by the time Hollyhock was ready to do his hair. As he brushed, Ahren calmly picked out twigs and leaves, carefully detangling a few of the larger knots with his fingers.

Coughing a bit, Holly tried to attract his companions’ attentions as Marsh crept into the bathroom to wash up. Trying his voice again, he found his throat willing to work with him. “Hey, where  _ are _ we?”

“An hour or so from the footpath by dragon, up to the foothills.” Aidia called from the bathroom. “You were out for a day, for your internal calendar.”

Closer to the Stronghold Heights than the Moonrakers. They were probably in that little section in between the mountain ranges with the gap. It was a common pass. “So, what are we doing?”

“Aside from waiting until you are fully recovered?” Ahren straightened the last of his clothing. “We will continue to head east. I promised that I would fly us back to the footpath.”

Nodding, Holly braided his hair and tied it off. “I feel fine.”

“I want to wait a day.” Marsh spat out their toothpaste and rinsed their mouth out. “Just in case.”

That was frustrating. He was fine, just hungry.

Beside him, Ahren clapped his hands excitedly, face bright. “Oh! The nice woman at the counter was telling me about the hot springs nearby when I went to get Marsh the ingredients for the elixir! She mentioned that there were some very nice ones if we were willing to go for a bit of a hike!”

How could Holly say no to that? “I’d be okay with that.”

“If you collapse, I’m not carrying you.” Marsh exited the bathroom, finishing up their morning routine by putting their hair up and out of their face.

“I won’t collapse! Let’s just enjoy some hot springs, unless y’all want to go for another river dip in the mountains?” He grinned as Aidia and Ahren exchanged a shudder.

“I’m alright with it if Marsh is.” Aidia freed the bathroom and Holly ducked in to wash up quickly, Ahren following.

Grumbling, Marsh assented. “Fine, but I get to complain about the hike.”

“Deal.” Holly said around a mouthful of toothpaste.

Finishing quickly, Holly moved back into the common room and packed up the rest of his things for the day as Ahren brushed his teeth. They all were quick to head down, picking up directions and a few towels from the front desk. The person behind it wished them luck with a smile, directing them to the small eatery they ran when Hollyhock reminded everyone that none of them had eaten breakfast yet.

Stomachs silenced and filled with eggs, bacon, toast, and algae jam, they set out. As they got started, a few facts concerning how they had elected to spend their day became clear, as Aidia would say. It was more a walk than a hike, for one thing. Marsh had begrudgingly agreed that it wasn’t all that bad as they chatted. There were hardly any steep inclines, not even anything they would need a deivalger to ride. These foothills were so much more forgiving than back home, with their well-maintained switchbacks and even trails.

Hollyhock remembered his father talking about the land here, he was supposed to have family up in the pass and there was a geological society that still published his father’s papers. Apparently, the land here had been a part of a range that connected the Stronghold Heights and the Moonrakers but was flattened. The highest hills weren’t so much peaks as plateaus, perfectly flat. His father said that there were plenty of fortresses up there, the geological society taking an interest in the strata that were present if you dug a few feet through new, blackened soil. “Like a cut in time”, he had said. If he was being honest, Holly didn’t know why his father had moved out to the Northwest Territories when his work would be so much easier here.

Ahren, Marsh, and Aidia chatted around him as he thought, facts about various stones and formations popping into his head. It was funny. His father had described the area here so often and so detailed that Hollyhock could tell from the flattened hills in the skyline where to find the best fossils. In the distance, the Moonrakers loomed high to the west and the Stronghold Heights to the east, the sky a grey dome. The bite of frost on the wind let Hollyhock know that rain wasn’t coming tonight. Maybe it was snowing back home.

“So, Holly,” Aidia’s smile was easy, if a bit worried. He had been quiet for too long, “do you have any fun geology facts?”

Fun geology facts. Maybe he wasn’t as okay as he thought he was. “Yeah, um, this used to be a connecting range between the Moonrakers and the Heights. You can still see them if you squint in the fog, see?”

His companions looked, and there were hums and excited nods.

“There’s a series of plateaus, but you can’t really see them now. I think they built a geological society up on the highest one, my dad publishes his work through them.” The Passery’s mail system was shit, when it bothered to deliver anything at all.

“That’s really interesting, your father is a geologist, correct?” Ahren had a pep in his step.

Trying to get some of that energy into himself, Holly hummed, chewing on is cheek. “Yeah, he is, he used to study the strata up on the plateaus because it’s like someone cut a mountain’s peak off up there, but he transitioned to doing the Moonrakers.”

Aidia nodded, bumping his shoulder with hers. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m great, why?” Gods, why was he acting like this.

“You just seem a bit bummed out, I was getting worried.”

With a better facsimile of a smile, Hollyhock tried again. “Really, Aidia, I’m fine. Just a bit tired and all that.”

Ahren chewed at his lip. “We can talk about something else, if you’d like.”

Shrugging, Hollyhock stretched his shoulders, enjoying the way the bones popped and cracked. “I’m alright with whatever.”

“Good,” Marsh cut in, pushing their hair out of their face, “because I was looking at the map, and it said that there was a city a few days away. I asked the woman at the front desk, but she said it was a place that they didn’t go because it was dangerous.”

Like a switch was flipped, Aidia and Hollyhock lit up.

“Oh?” He couldn’t resist the excitement that crept into his voice.

“Could we go see it?” Aidia’s hands found Hollyhock’s shoulders, forgetting her previous thought. “Please?”

Marsh folded their arms. “The lady said that it was really dangerous and that there was this poison in the air that kills people. I don’t want to die. I don’t think Ahren wants to die, either.”

“Yes, that is correct, I would not like to die, thank you.”

Holly and Aidia groaned.

A frown found its way onto Aidia’s face. “But ancient cities are so  _ interesting _ .”

“You know,” Hollyhock was struck with a memory, “I had picked up a book about ancient structures a few towns ago, I think I have it in my pack! It was this  _ really _ interesting read and you’re welcome to borrow it if you want!”

And that was that for anyone getting through to Hollyhock and Aidia. The rest of the walk was filled with the two of them talking about the ancients, bouncing facts and ideas and theories back and forth until the conversation was impassable to everyone else. Holly’s mood lifted, more than happy to be able to talk about something that had held his interest so markedly. Aidia thought that there were multiple eras based on the architecture, as they had  _ clearly _ gotten the book out, and Holly had to agree. There was too much of a difference in styles.

Slowly, the path became overgrown beneath their feet and Ahren joked around with Marsh. Hollyhock half-listened to their conversation, pointing out how the foundations of the buildings were different in places that were geographically close to Aidia. There may have only been a few sites in the book, but they were relatively well sketched and not very many people entered them. The shopkeeper had mentioned that there was very little academic interest, though Holly couldn’t fathom why.

Marsh mentioned that the trip had added a couple of days to their journey and Ahren replied that he was already late for his meeting. He mused that his compatriots would probably be okay with that, as it was a slight miracle that he was even alive. Breaking into their conversation, Hollyhock joked that they would be more surprised about his companions than anything and Aidia chuckled at that.

“The dragon diplomat is here,” she took up the mantle, “and he has an entourage of three cross-breeds!”

“I don’t think it’s that big a deal.” Marsh yawned, stretching their hands into the air.

“But it is?” She sounded confused.

Hollyhock shrugged. “Not to me, at least. I know plenty of people that aren’t one thing or the other. It’s not a remarkable thing.”

“But they’re rare…”

“ _ We’re _ not rare.” What was Aidia talking about.  _ She _ was a cross-breed. “Just because you haven’t met that many doesn’t mean that they’re rare. Marsh and I both know  _ plenty _ of half-elves and Humanish and half-orcs. I know half-dwarves, but they usually don’t go to far from the foothills.”

“Hollyhock, you are the only half-elf I have met in my life.” Well, that was concerning.

Marsh frowned. “You’ve definitely met other half-elves.”

“I haven’t.”

Gods, Holly was pretty sure they had met a half-elf last  _ month _ . “Aidia, how can you tell I’m a half-elf.”

She blinked at him, and Ahren’s brows drew together. “The ears, right?” Ahren nodded along as she spoke.

“Is… is that it?” Marsh’s tone was more horrified than anything.

It was Ahren that chimed in. “What else would there be?”

“Ahren, Aidia,” Hollyhock was too dumbfounded to speak, so Marsh took over, “you  _ are _ aware that, in most places, the standard practice was to have a half-elf child’s ears clipped until ten years ago. The reason  _ Holly _ is intact is because he grew up in a rural area that was known for its variation. We… the last bookstore we went to was run by a half-elf.”

They blinked, uncomprehending, shocked.

“That’s horrible, the clipping.” Ahren’s hand covered his mouth.

Shrugging, Hollyhock picked across the snarl of plants beneath him without much trouble. “Conformity and all that. No one clips in the Territories. There’s plenty of other ways to tell.”

“I see…” Aidia said in a tone that suggested that she didn’t see at all but was willing to let the matter drop. “Do you hear running water?”

Everyone perked up at that, following a narrow trail through some bushes to the promised spring. Grinning, Hollyhock started to strip out of his clothes as he walked, pulling off his eyepatch and pack and leaving his shirt and pants on the rocks. Beside him, Marsh did the same with equal speed, the two of them electing to start their very own nudist colony.

It was a pretty grotto, Holly had to say. It was nestled inside of a small cave, a rocky overhang shading roughly half of the clear water. Flat stones surrounded it, moss slowly taking over the edges of the smooth, grey rocks. A few wisps of steam curled up from the still water, a pale blue shimmer of sediment floating in it. Oh,  _ gods _ yes.

Sinking into the pool as Aidia and Ahren undressed, Hollyhock let himself enjoy the heat of the water. It was nice, so nice, to be able to take a hot bath. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed this. It was different from the springs back home, there was a different smell. Instead of something vaguely sulfur-y, this water smelled a bit like rock flour and rust, as if it were heated glacial runoff. Odd, sure, but not completely outrageous and outlandish.

Hollyhock scooched over as Marsh and Aidia entered, Aidia sighing happily and splashing the warm water over her face. The two of them sat down on the smooth grotto floor, the water just barely reaching Marsh’s neck. Awkwardly, Ahren did his best to avoid looking at anyone as he entered, blushing. Sitting down next to Holly, a pleased shudder ran through Ahren when he let his shoulders submerge just under the water.

“This is nice.” Hollyhock couldn’t keep the smile off of his face as he put his hair up. “Not to be a sap, but this is nice.”

It was infectious; a grin spread across Aidia’s face. “Maybe so. Can you believe we’re almost there? A week more or so, and we’ll be at the capital.”

Chewing at his lip, Ahren ducked his head down. “It is incredible how time flies.”

There was a stretch of silence, no one wanting to ask the question on everyone’s minds.

Hollyhock wasn’t going to ask it, but he  _ was _ going to be the one to break the silence. “Do we want to play a game?”

“Do you know a good one?” Marsh tilted their head, letting their hair fan out around them.

“I  _ do _ ! It’s called ‘truth-teller’. Basically, you tell a truth about yourself, a lie, and something that’s an embellishment, and people try to guess which one’s the lie!”

Shrugging, Aidia and Marsh acquiesced.

Ahren was a bit more hesitant. “I haven’t done a great many things.”

“Oh, it’s fine! You can always pass on your turn if you can’t think of anything!”

His smile was tentative, and, under the water, he took the hand that Holly wasn’t gesturing with. It was sweet and cute and made Hollyhock’s heart melt a bit. “Sure.”

“Awesome!” Holly grinned. “I can start. Okay… um…” Gods, he hadn’t played this in forever. “I have—had thirteen piercings at once, I once made a flying machine with my friend, and I was engaged at some point.”

The looks they gave him were perfect. As the three of them argued over which of Holly’s statements were untrue, he quietly pondered getting his piercings re-done. It had been a pain when all twelve of them had closed up so quickly, but better that they close up than get infected on such a long journey. Ahren probably would have lost his mind at the tongue piercing, it would’ve been so funny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks, i have a tumblr! https://madrastique.tumblr.com/  
> liked the story? leave a comment


	29. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the obligatory hot springs chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as you might have noticed, there are 6 chapters (counting this one) left! aint that feral!
> 
> Chapter Warnings:  
> Gratuitous nudity  
> Sex

Marsh had left the two of them to their own devices, and Ahren wasn’t going to let that go to waste. They had cared less about being intimate than Holly, and, now that he was awake, Ahren was positively itching to show him how much he had been missed. While Holly cleaned tree sap and dirt off of his bass, tipping his chair onto its back legs, Ahren had washed up, planning. He would say yes, probably. He was always eager to do these kinds of things.

Stepping out of the bathroom, Ahren tried to ignore how exposed he felt, wearing just a long, loose robe that he had fastened around his waist. He leaned against the doorframe, imitating what Hollyhock did when he and Marsh flirted around. Hopefully, the lock on his face was appropriate. Learning these things on the fly had not been the easiest thing.

“What’s up Ahren?” Holly didn’t even look at him, just focused on the instrument as he let the chair fall forward, back into its proper position.

What he didn’t expect, judging from the way he all but jumped out of his skin, was for Ahren to pad around to behind him, two hands pressing down into his shoulders. Hollyhock yelped, tensing up as Ahren tried to rub little circles into the muscle. Shame creeping into his face, Ahren lifted his hands, already apologizing.

“It’s okay, don’t worry.” Hollyhock was saying. “Something’s on your mind?”

Biting his lip, Ahren tucked his wings in tighter. “I was—ah—” He kicked himself at the way his voice cracked. It was embarrassing. “I was wondering—do you remember the spring we went to?” New plan.

Hollyhock lifted an eyebrow, leaning back to look at Ahren’s face. “You mean the only thing we did today? The thing we hiked three hours there and back? Yeah, I remember the spring, why?”

“Would you like to go there again?” Ahren’s claws ran over the wood of the chair, trying to distract himself.

“Okay, if Marsh and Aidia are up for it, I wouldn’t mind waking up early. We could explore some of the other trails, too.”

It was painful to say the words aloud. “N-no, I meant you and I. Alone.”

Ahren was taking the initiative and it felt like he was going to die. He was going to die like this, he was going to burst into flame and die of embarrassment. It made his blood pound in his ears and his heart speed up, skin growing hot. His body was waking up, eager and willing, getting drunk off of Hollyhock’s smell.

“Sure,” that pretty blue eye looked at him, wide and surprised, a faint blush dusting pale cheeks, “I’d love to. Do you have a time in mind?”

“Now?”

“Ahren, it’s a two-hour hike.”

The words were out of Ahren’s mouth before he could think. “I’ll fly us there.”

An amused grin wandered onto Holly’s face. “Are you sure? It’s dark out and you’ve only been there once.”

“I can fly us there.” Ahren repeated, more confident.

Setting his bass down on the nearby desk, Hollyhock rose. “Alright, let me just change and we can be on our way. Can you leave a note for Marsh saying where we went? I wouldn’t want to worry them.”

“Of course.” Ahren said, like a pit didn’t start forming in his stomach.

There was a blush to Holly’s face as he took a few clothes from his pack, ducking into the bathroom to change. Ahren was left with the paper and pen, along with the anxiety in him. Oh Maker guide his hand, this was going to be a disaster. Starting, Ahren tried his best to remember the spelling rules he had been taught and yelled about. Notes started with a name and people got mad if someone spelled theirs wrong. Okay. He could do this.

Ahren’s words were clumsy and clunky, unfamiliar with the feeling of the pen in his hands. His mother had invested in teaching him how to write so that he wouldn’t bring more shame down onto the family at his performance at the negotiations. Suffice to say, Ahren was not very good at writing yet and reading still took him longer than his companions.

By the time Hollyhock came out, Ahren was mostly done. Yes, this simple note had taken him a bit longer than it should have. Ahren felt a piece of himself die inside when Hollyhock looked over his shoulder. It was… not the best thing in the world, especially not when he was trying to write his name at the bottom of the page to sign off.

_ “Deer Marsh _ ,” it read.

_ “We are sorry for this short notise, but Holleehok and I are going to the hot springs. We thot it mite be best to tell you, so I have ritten a note. We eksbe—” _ Ahren had scratched that part out—“ _ plan too be bak soon. Hav a good nite! _

_ “Ahrn.” _

Out of the corner of his eye, Ahren could see Hollyhock bite his lip but say nothing. “Trade is not my first language.”

Holly shrugged. “It’s fine, it isn’t mine either. You ready to go?”

“Yes, let’s.” Setting the note down, Ahren didn’t bother with shoes. He was going to be a dragon soon, it wasn’t like he was going to be wearing them much.

They got down the stairs without much trouble, ducking into an alleyway like giggling teens trying not to get caught by their parents. If this was what normal people did as they grew up, then Ahren liked it, pretending he was young and foolish and only had to worry about being reprimanded and that would be all. Maybe this was what Hollyhock’s younger life had been like, free to do as he pleased. It was nice.

Instead of pretending to be a functional adult and naming this as a bad idea, Ahren let his robe fall from his shoulders, exposing himself. Giving the fabric to Holly, he transformed. It was an interesting feeling, as always. His body molded into something else, unfamiliar in its familiarity. If anything, it was disorienting, magic skittering along his skin, the new size that he had to adjust to. Ahren was getting better. Shaking out his wings and stretching like a cat, Ahren let himself enjoy the feeling of his spine cracking down its length. He curled his tail up automatically and knelt, shifting a bit to get used to where his limbs now ended.

Hollyhock climbed onto his neck, running his hands along the scales there pleasantly. He always knew how to get those itches that seemed to come from under Ahren’s scales. Maybe Ahren should let his companions pet him more often. Standing up, he felt Holly wobble his weight, keeping his balance as Ahren eyed the amount of leeway he had.

“Are you ready?” He asked. It was odd to speak like this, magic buzzing in the back of Ahren’s head as he moved his mouth, humanoid sounds coming out of fangs and a forked tongue.

Holly rubbed the scales between Ahren’s horns, making his tail twitch happily. “Yes, let’s go.”

Perfect. Flaring out his wings to give Hollyhock warning to hold on, Ahren pulled himself into the air. They rose above the town, Ahren circling for just a moment before finding the way. It was so wonderful to be able to ride on the wind, to feel air under his wings. Ahren didn’t understand how he had gone most of his childhood without this, he would probably go mad if he wasn’t able to fly anymore.

It was beautiful up here, under the dome of the clouds, over everything else. On nights like these, it was almost like one could see the edge of the world, falling off into infinity and back. Forest after forest, mountain after mountain. Something in the back of Ahren’s brain told him where to go to find the springs again, his body moving to take him there. He moved slowly, not bothering to rush, but, soon enough, Ahren was descending. It had been a bit difficult at first, landing among the trees, but Ahren had had plenty of practice at this point.

Landing lightly, Ahren let Hollyhock climb off of him. He had placed them in the center of the clearing, close enough to the pool that Ahren was  _ very _ happy that the ground had not given way. As Ahren shifted back, he could feel the cold against his scales, tinging the back of his mind with sluggish darkness. Hollyhock draped his robe over some of the stones and stripped his own clothing off, the two of them naked and barefoot in the moonlight.

A flutter worked its way through Ahren’s chest at the sight of Holly, body framed by the steam rising up from the blue of the pond. How was it his fault that he looked so beautiful like this, it was almost intolerable how much Ahren wanted to hold him until the world fell away. A full moon drifted from between the trees, bathing their forms in silver light.

Hollyhock looked like a minor god like this, skin made of the same thread as the moonlight. He almost glowed, hair darker than the shadows falling down over his bare shoulders. His blue eye glittered, paler than ice, and his green eye was an ever-shifting pool that Ahren worried he would drown in if he got too close.

Smiling, Hollyhock planted a hand on his hip as he edged closer to the grotto. “Are you just going to stare at me, or are you going to get into the water.”

“Of course, but, if you  _ need _ the help, I suppose I could lend you a hand.” Ahren stepped forward, running his hands down the divet of Holly’s spine to cup his ass.

He turned, looping his arms around Ahren’s neck as Ahren rested his palms on Holly’s hips. “I think I might need a bit of help, I’m just  _ so _ tired from all the hiking we did today.”

Resisting the blush that threatened to overtake Ahren, he lifted Hollyhock into his arms. It was just so hard to control himself when Holly used  _ that _ voice with him. Like he knew the chaos he wrecked on Ahren’s mind, Holly nuzzled into the crook of his neck, feathering soft kisses to the sensitive scales he found there as he wrapped his legs around Ahren’s waist. Ahren bit back a whine, instead pressing Hollyhock closer to him as he stepped into the blissfully warm water. His teeth grazed against Ahren’s throat, gentle but insistent, a special form of torture. The water rose up to his hips and he tightened his hands on Holly’s ass, finding the entrance slick and stretched.

“Did you—”

A nip shut him up. “I thought it might be a treat.”

At some point, Ahren had everted. He realized that belatedly, his erection trapped against Holly’s stomach. “Oh.”

“We could not do that if you don’t want to.” Holly’s voice was quiet.

“Would it hurt you?” It seemed like something that would hurt.

“No.”

Tentatively, Ahren lowered them both into the water, letting Hollyhock rest on a gentle slope that would keep his head above the water. His dark hair floated around him like a halo, hands pulling Ahren back down so that lips and teeth could lavish his neck with affection. Ahren’s heart panged at the sound Hollyhock made when he pulled back to line himself up. Holly’s erection bobbed on his stomach, leaking precome, at the sensation of Ahren’s cock against his entrance.

“Are you ready?” Ahren hoped that the worry didn’t bleed through his features.

Pressing a kiss into Ahren’s forehead, Holly’s pupil was dilated wide. “If you don’t fuck me right now, I’m walking home like this.”

“As you command.” Ahren breathed.

Slowly pushing into Holly, he watched his face for any trace of discomfort. Holly ran his hands over Ahren’s arms as the first ridge of his dick entered him, biting his lip to stifle the gasps he was making. He just felt so good, this tight heat and the water working to get Ahren drunk off of the warmth. With a broken moan, Ahren let himself get lost in the sensation, a hunger in him awakening for  _ more _ .

Holly pressed kisses along Ahren’s cheek. “You’re doing good.”

Blushing, Ahren bottomed out, hiding his face in Hollyhock’s shoulder. He started to move properly, slowly, enjoying the way Holly’s chuckle broke into a breathy moan. A nip to the side of Holly’s neck made his hips stutter, nails digging into Ahren’s scales to press him harder against his neck. Lacing a hand through Holly’s hair, Ahren gave an experimental tug. The high-pitched cry that fell from his lips was well worth it.

He thrust faster, a heat building in the pit of his stomach. There was a drive in him, a command that Ahren had no choice to fulfill, no matter how sweetly Holly locked his legs around his waist or how pretty the sounds he made were. As Hollyhock moved a hand down to paw at himself, whining, Ahren couldn’t help the groans and whimpers that spilled out of him.

“I—ah—I haven’t done this in a while.” Hollyhock panted, like Ahren had done this at all.

“It’s alright.” Like it could be anything else. “Is there anything you want.”

Shaking his head, Hollyhock made a kind of choked noise when a particular thrust hit a good place inside him. “Do that again. Enjoy yourself.”

It was like a switch had been flipped in Ahren’s mind now that he had been given permission. Instead of worrying about how much Hollyhock was going to hate him for this, Ahren’s body decided to take over. Holly kissed along his neck, trailing the nice feeling anywhere he went as Ahren moved harder, faster. Broken sounds spilled out of him, out of the both of them, really. Ahren’s thrusts became more erratic as Holly panted hard, breaths coming up in clouds between them, half-lidded, pleasure-drunk eyes locking with his.

Some long-forgotten instinct told Ahren to sink his teeth into the skin of Holly’s shoulder, and he did, if just light enough to keep from breaking skin. Marsh would likely kill them both if Hollyhock came back with a bite taken out of him. For his part, Hollyhock moaned like it had gone straight to his cock, trying to rock back down onto Ahren’s dick for another scrap of pleasure. This was perfect, perfect, perfect.

Burying himself deep into Holly, he felt himself cum with a moan. Again. He wanted to do this again. Ahren caught his breath in fits and bursts, taking in the half-elf below him. There was a flush to Hollyhock’s skin, his cock leaking onto his stomach. It was incredibly arousing, if Ahren could say so, the desperation in Holly’s eyes.

Hollyhock whimpered as he slid out, dick stiffening again. “A-Ahren, please—”

“Again.” The head of Ahren’s cock bobbed in the air, the very tip still aligned with Holly’s rim. “Again.”

With a shaky nod, Holly’s hand snaked down to wrap around his dick. Ahren batted it away lightly, replacing it with his own. This should be… alright. Ahren could figure this out. How hard could it be. Shuddering, Hollyhock seemed to enjoy it anyway, jerking up into the circle of Ahren’s hand. As Ahren entered him again, Hollyhock keened, twitching as Ahren’s own cum acted as a lubricant.

The warm water around them was intoxicating, almost as much of a drug as the man below Ahren. If this was what the world was like, the wind rustling the dark, multicolored leaves high up above, the sound twisting and twining with the way Holly sung under him, voice tinging ever so slightly with the perfect tones that came with his magic. The night was beautiful, everything was beautiful. Some barely remembered voice in the back of his mind murmured prayers to his Maker for creating such a wonderful place, an oasis in a sea of red and gold, thinning air reminiscent of home. This was what the garden at the end of time looked like, air pleasantly crisp, not enough to hurt but enough to not make him heat drunk, life and water and love all around.

Like a string had pulled him skyward, Hollyhock’s back arched, toes curling, and legs shaking as he splattered messily over their stomachs. His head struck the stone under him as he wailed like his throat had been torn open and sound freed. Heart in his throat, Ahren stilled, arousal dying. Objectively, he knew this was an expression of pleasure, but the back of his mind refused to accept it, certain that Hollyhock was in pain.

Scooping him up into his arms, Ahren eased them out of the shallows, letting the deeper waters support their weight and keep them warm. Hollyhock was breathing hard, eyes unfocused. His head rested against Ahren’s chest, hair plastered to his skin. Gently, so gently, Ahren brushed it out of his eyes, careful not to scratch Holly’s skin. He just looked so fragile like this, so small, his limbs tangled up and limp.

Ahren never wanted to leave him. The intensity of the thought startled him, the strength behind the urge to wrap his arms tighter around Hollyhock and never let go. He wanted to protect him and keep him safe. It was like a command in his head, a need to make sure Hollyhock was  _ his _ , something more primal than language or reason.

A pat to Ahren’s chest snapped his attention down. Mismatched eyes blinked up at him blearily. “You didn’t finish.”

“Oh, ah, it’s alright.” He rubbed Holly’s back, careful of the hair floating up around them. “Are you alright?”

The response was slow, like Hollyhock was trying to fix the words in his mind. “Uh-huh.”

Like a spirit, a white flake drifted down in front of Ahren’s nose, melting into the water. Glancing around, there were more, big sticky flakes slowly making their descent to the ground. A couple of them fell into Holly’s hair and Ahren brushed them out, pressing the tip of his snout to Holly’s forehead, trying his best to imitate a kiss.

Huh, Ahren hadn’t seen snowfall in a while. Never when he was outside. All of those times, the snow had already been on the ground, clinging to his legs and draining him into blackness. Lifting his head experimentally, he caught a flake on his tongue, feeling a quick flash of cool instantly replaced by meltwater. It was pretty, the way the clumped flakes fell through the trees to form a patchy ground cover, almost transfixing.

“It’s snowing.” Holly mumbled, eyes sluggishly tracking the flakes.

“That it is.”

Stroking Hollyhock’s hair, Ahren let a deep rumble work its way out of his chest. It was so nice, the water, the man in his arms, the contrast of cool air and warm pool. Hollyhock looked so relaxed, eyes drifting closed. His heart was still hammering, Ahren could feel it against his scales, but, slowly but surely, it calmed.

With a pleased chuff, Ahren tucked a lock of Holly’s hair behind his pointed ear. “We should probably start heading back, right?”

There was no response, just the slightest flutter of eyelids. Ahren paused for a moment to lament how unfair it was that Holly’s eyelashes were so pretty before continuing with his thoughts. Alright. His… his boyfriend—it still sent a thrum of excitement down Ahren’s spine to think of Hollyhock in that way—had fallen asleep, naked, on top of him. In the hot springs. Ahren could do this.

Ahren definitely didn’t get caught, half-naked and carrying his sleeping boyfriend on his back, sneaking into his own room by Aidia. That definitely didn’t happen and they definitely didn’t agree to never speak of it, provided Ahren got her lunch tomorrow. Ahren was a pure and noble dragon. Yep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks, i have a tumblr! https://madrastique.tumblr.com/  
> liked the story? leave a comment
> 
> Fun Fact!!! We have related works!!  
> [ Scales Don't Work Well With Lace by Awkward_Dragon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24123841)


	30. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sometimes, a breath of fresh air is needed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings:  
> None!

In no uncertain terms, Marsh was exhausted. All they wanted to do was curl up and sleep for a week straight. Their journey was coming to an end, and, despite everything, there was anxiety gnawing in their chest. They didn’t want this all to end, for the journey to be completed. New cities and new people were tolerable with others and a nightmare alone.

Aidia had insisted that they stay in town for a little while longer, sticking close to the hot springs while everyone recovered more fully. Not that anyone was complaining. All of them had found things to do, all of them besides Marsh. Hollyhock slept and hiked, Ahren tagged along with Holly and practiced moving around in his dragon form, and Aidia lived in the library and devoured books. And Marsh sat in the room, staring at the wall, trying to absorb knowledge from their medical tome and not to think too hard about thoughts that made them upset.

It was necessary, this break, painful as the concept was. The four of them had been walking like a death march for the past week, only stopping to break for camp or check into a town. The quests they picked up for a bit of extra spending money only triggered strings of misfortune and a surprising amount of work, fights, and the occasional ‘miscalculation’ for their payment. Hollyhock had not been happy about that. There had been talk about getting a carriage at a waystation for the last stretch into the capital district, the land there was mostly farms and they would have to stay in inns, so it would be the same amount of money anyways.

The way Ahren was still shaky in the air worried Marsh. He wobbled a bit, as if he couldn’t tell exactly where his body ended, and it only got worse with more weight. Sure, Ahren had grown about an inch in his humanoid form, about half a foot in his draconic, but that probably wasn’t enough to offset his balance, right? Maybe it was the increase in calories. Ahren had gained some muscle, an appropriate amount from trekking across the kingdom and carrying them all from time to time, and was hungry constantly now. A new weight would probably be hard to adjust to in the air. Marsh was just happy that the man had some meat on his bones now, his stomach not a flat, hollow plane.

He was getting better at letting people touch him, too. Pets were accepted and limbs were moved when one of them requested it. It wasn’t ideal that Ahren was still terrified of stepping on one of them when he walked along in his draconic form, insisting that everyone be ahead of him and in his sight, but they could work on that. He was also peeling. Marsh had found a few flecks of shedding scales on his stomach and Ahren rolled over for them.

It was interesting to see a dragon on his back, tail twitching with barely contained joy as his belly was rubbed, purring up a storm, but who was Marsh to judge. Holly had thought it adorable and issued a challenge to find all the spots that felt nice, much to Ahren’s happiness. The loose scales were picked off with careful hands and Holly had blown plenty of raspberries into Ahren’s soft tummy scales. It was very cute.

The break was nice; it was good for them all to be silly, even if it gave Marsh too much time for themselves. It was lonely in the inn room, the walls seeming to close in around them. If they stayed there for much longer, they might actually go mad, well and truly. Marsh might have hated interacting with strangers, but this was intolerable, with their partners out and about and energetic.

At least Aidia needed a break too. It was almost funny in a sad way, the game she played with this journey. She was still under the impression that no one had noticed her tentativeness, her secrecy. Every inquiry to what she thought was met with a practiced smile and a line that could be from a book on negotiating. For all their faults, Hollyhock and Ahren were clearly having a good time on this trip, at the end of the day. Aidia, though--it seemed like getting through it without spilling a secret was the trial she’d been training her whole life for.

Maybe Ahren hadn’t had time to talk to her about his plans. He’d mentioned, at least to Marsh, that he wanted to list all of them as his entourage as they came into the city. Apparently, that would give all of them housing in the palace, free of charge. A perk of being a diplomat was being able to bring your friends along, including people you found on the way. Ahren had cited a ruling that had been made forever ago that Marsh couldn’t remember if they tried. At least he knew what he was talking about. Ahren probably hadn’t had time to bring it up to Holly and Aidia yet, the four of them  _ had _ been a bit busy recently. Knowing him, he was probably waiting for the right moment, whatever that meant.

Either way, Marsh was getting worried about Aidia. It was concerning that she didn’t reach out to them when she clearly needed to, more concerning than when Hollyhock lied about feeling fine. At least he was honest about it occasionally, when he thought no one else would hear. It was the way Aidia spoke in her sleep that made them worry.

Marsh didn’t want to be the person to tell her that her slurred Trade was decently understandable to them as she spoke to a memory of her mother. They were going to keep listening, of course. It wasn’t like Aidia would ever talk about her life any other way. She was always arguing, telling her mother that she wasn’t ready, begging to stay home, to be given more time. It didn’t paint a flattering picture of her mother, in Marsh’s opinion.

And then, there were the policy mumblings. At this point, Marsh was pretty sure Aidia’s first words were about politics. Aidia knew the law so well that she went through it forwards and backwards in her sleep, lists of names and events that Marsh had never heard of. They usually took it as their cue to roll over and try to go back to sleep. It was an unfortunate fact that Marsh now knew more than they ever wanted about Essren the Burner’s personal life, courtesy of Aidia reciting dinner party invitations and hunting trips. How and why she had access to this detailed information about courtly life two decades ago was anyone’s guess.

It probably wasn’t healthy for her to bottle everything up like that, pretending nothing was wrong so hard that it bubbled up in her sleep. Marsh had been concerned from the beginning: plenty of people showed up at their door bleeding and concussed, but not that many gave them a fake name and offered to pay them everything they had not to tell anyone that she was here before proceeding to faint in the kitchen because she hadn’t eaten anything in three days.

Coincidentally, it had been three days since the nearest town with a restaurant and an inn.

She reminded them of their little brother, trying to be strong and independent, like she was afraid everyone would leave her if she wasn’t. It hurt. It hurt Marsh’s feelings. Dad would be so proud of Marsh for that, for being so aware of their feelings. He always liked it when they worked on their feelings.

Marsh didn’t want to think about their father right now.

Something else. Hollyhock was holding up pretty well, probably the best out of all of them. By now, he had gotten used to casting, from the few times Marsh had actually seen him  _ do _ it. For some reason, Holly was so partial to minimizing his skills and insisting on more and more practice, but Marsh was squarely in the camp that Holly was good at it. Very good.

There was this implicit understanding that he had, like Hollyhock could see where the magic wanted to move. It felt like he had been born to wield this kind of power, the knowledge woven into the weft of his mind. Even in the beginning, it wasn’t a problem of getting magic to  _ work _ , but to control how  _ much _ it worked. It had fit Holly snugly, the power crackling around him like a second skin. Marsh had treated enough magical wounds from people who had been under the impression they could handle a patron to know the difference between someone who had genuine skill and someone who struck a vein of luck.

It would be a shame when the arcane guild broke his heart. Most of those guilds were still operating under the rules put in by Essren, and Albazar had been a racist piece of shit. They were almost certainly going to reject him, if only for their own image. Knowing Hollyhock, he’d be depressed at that. He was staking so much on this acceptance. It would be even more of a shame when the Academy of Magics rejected him because he didn’t qualify for a scholarship or something.

Despite how humble he insisted on being, it was abundantly clear that Hollyhock was smart. Marsh was impressed with him; in just a few months, he was able to gain a proficiency that Marsh  _ still _ hadn’t gained after forty-eight years. And it wasn’t even his own power! It was an unstable, freshly made patronship!

It… they weren’t jealous. Mom would want them to go through their feelings to figure out why, and, for good or for bad, Marsh missed her and honored her memory. Okay. Let’s do this. Feelings. Marsh was feeling… bad that Hollyhock was able to use magic so easily. Marsh was feeling… frustrated that he didn’t appreciate how impressive it was. Marsh was feeling… upset that they weren’t able to use their magic as effectively.

What next. Solutions, right? The solution for feeling bad was to… to… to accept it? Marsh was  _ pretty _ sure that was what Mom had said. Accept it, feel it, and know that it wasn’t permanent. Okay. Cool. That one would take time, so they could do that later. The solution for feeling frustrated was to talk about it with Hollyhock. Hollyhock wasn’t here, though, now was he. Problem for another time. The solution for feeling upset was to get better. Getting better would take practice. Okay. Marsh could do that. But they needed to get into the right headspace, and not here. It would be too much of a headache here; they wouldn’t be able to ground themselves at all.

With a sigh, Marsh watched the curtains flutter in the breeze. They needed to get out. The room was so stifling, even with the window open. Standing, Marsh left their pack on the floor. A walk would probably do them good, especially if they wanted to practice. They tucked their medical textbook under their arm for some light reading and did a quick survey of the room.

First things first, Marsh needed to close the shutters. Latching them, Marsh almost immediately missed the breeze. Sure, Ahren was going to complain about the chill, but there were three other people that could warm him back up. Either way, Holly was going to complain about the heat. It’d snowed the other day, actually, but, despite Ahren’s whining and Hollyhock’s exuberance, it hadn’t stuck to the ground. Oh, keys. Those were important. Marsh pocketed them, locking up as they exited. Aidia and Holly both had keys, and Ahren was probably with one of them. If not, there was always the front desk.

On the way down the stairs, Marsh managed to bump into someone, spilling both of their items onto the wooden steps. Fuck. Gods damn it.

“Sorry, sorry.” They knelt down picking things up off of the floor.

There was a quiet laugh above them, and their victim knelt down as well, helping. “Oh, it’s quite alright. You aren’t hurt, are you?”

Glancing up at an unfamiliar accent, Marsh was greeted with the sight of an orc woman. She was pretty, skin a deep green and hair done in braids with little beads woven in. Her clothes were simple but sturdy things, made for travel and worn by time, and Marsh could appreciate that. All in all, this woman seemed okay enough.

“No, I’m not, are you?” Her hands had been full of books and, scanning the titles, Marsh found them to be about local legends. Oh?

She shook her head. “No, thankfully. My apologies, I should have been looking—”

“No, it’s my bad. I shouldn’t’ve been in my head.” Marsh interrupted. “I’m Marsh, by the way, and I think these are yours.”

Brightening, the woman took the books, handing Marsh their medical book. “Jadin, pleasure to make your acquaintance. Are you not from around here?”

Oh, their accent must have given them away. “No, I’m not. I’m from farther west in Centrailia. It’s kind of close to where it becomes the Northwest Territories.”

“Oh! Yes! I remember. My entourage and I passed through that region.” Jadin’s voice was nice, a calm, steady thing. “So, are you a medical student?” She nodded at the book, her dark eyes twinkling with a joke.

Whoever started the rumor that orcs were harsh and cruel had been a liar by miles. Jadin was so nice! That whole myth about how orcs were “hard to read” and “a harsh, emotionless people” would have been disproven in a moment had Jadin’s face been the example. Her black sclerae and silver eyes were far more interesting than the pictures in Marsh’s book had been, but they had seen similar things with other Humanish and half-orcs.

“No, I’m a doctor.” The two of them straightened up, supplies gathered.

Jadin was much taller than them, unfortunately, but she was either very polite or familiar with speaking with short people. Instead of bending down or getting on their level, she just inclined her head down, still smiling. Yep. It was official. Marsh’s favorite person in this town was a random orc woman who ended up being one of the politest people they’d had the pleasure of meeting. She balanced her books in her arms, making sure the stack was stable.

With a nod, she spoke. “That’s quite wonderful! I am on my way to Dalitar for the international fair, I’m a reporter for Ekaro, one of the national papers. I’m very happy to meet you.”

“You too. Have a safe journey.” Marsh wasn’t going to mention that they were heading to the same city.

“The same goes to you! Farewell and good tidings!” Smiling, Jadin disappeared up the stairs.

The interaction had made Marsh feel better, really. Outside, the sun was shining and there wasn’t a cloud in the deep blue sky. It was… bright. Marsh couldn’t help the way they screwed their face up, trying to avoid some of the light. People milled about the streets, going about their days and doing errands. Belatedly, Marsh noted that this town was pretty diverse, lots of species living together. Good for them. Unfortunately for Marsh, though, their inn had been close to the center of the large, currently bustling town. It was hard to resist, but Marsh fought down the urge to slink back inside and read the day away. They promised themselves they were going to practice.

Making their way through the streets quickly, Marsh managed to evade the worst of it. They walked until he hubbub and rabble died down far behind them, leaving only the comforting sounds of the words. It was different from home, but it would be enough. A clearing opened up before them, soft grass and wildflowers basking in the crisp air. It was a nice day outside, not too cold if they stayed in the sun.

As they settled down, they let their book rest on the patch of clover beside them. Mom would be happy about that; she was always trying to get them to balance their outdoor time with their education. Marsh had to chuckle at how angry she used to get when they came home from a long day in the great outdoors, barefoot and muddy, getting the whole house dirty.

She had been a great woman. The grief stung like an old wound, even all these years later. They missed her, Dad and Ken too. It was silly, but sometimes, when Marsh woke up really early and heard everyone sleeping all around them, they thought that they were in their parents’ bed for just long enough to be hurt when they remembered. Psam and Hes had agreed with them before they moved out, that they missed everyone too. Like an arrow, Marsh realized they didn’t know if their sisters had stayed in town or not. Maybe Psamathe had finally sold the house after Marsh missed their biannual visit.

Now wasn’t the time to think of that. They could send a letter home as soon as they got to the capital. Looking up into the sky, Marsh figured they had another hour, hour and a half before dinner would be on everyone’s minds. They should probably be back at the inn by then so that everyone could go to a restaurant together. Holly and Aidia loved that so much, eating together in a proper setting. Maybe Marsh could talk them into the Centrailian one they had seen when they were keeping their head down on the way out. That could be fun.

That was for later, though. It would probably be best to listen to the advice of their family, Marsh thought with a sigh. Ken always advised them to meditate when they couldn’t focus or felt like the world was going too fast and they wanted to scream and shout and stomp the ground and pull out their hair. If anything, he’d be so surprised to see Marsh actually following his advice and not locking themselves in the bathroom to stew in the bathtub.

Taking a deep breath, Marsh tried to find the most comfortable position for this. Hm. Well, their back hurt, but their back always hurt. Maybe it would be nice if they could just lay down a bit… they could convince Holly to give them a backrub, probably. Oh, that would be nice. That would be very nice indeed.

Yes, they caved and laid down flat, staring up at the cloudless sky, arms akimbo. The grass was cool under their clothes, almost certainly getting little green stains everywhere. This wasn’t that bad. Marsh hadn’t realized that they’d missed this, watching late birds making their migration above them and feeling a faint breeze ripple along the ground.

Okay, they were comfortable, what next. Meditating… Ken would tell them to close their eyes. Politely listening to the imaginary voice of their Mom and Dad’s husband in their head, trying to pretend they were still young enough to be able to ask him for help. The sun cast the backs of their eyelids in a reddish hue, warming their face as Marsh let their mind drift. Ken would’ve directed them to slow down their breathing. He’d always been such a fan of counting breaths, counting footsteps, counting napkins on the table and peas on his plate. Ken liked counting.

In, 1-2-3-4. Hold. Out, 1-2-3-4. Repeat.

How things had changed. If twenty-year-old Marsh had seen them now, they wouldn’t believe that the two of them were the same person. For one thing, Marsh had always hated this when they were younger. Why couldn’t they just be normal, free from their magic and the way it drained them. They’d always hated their magic.

It always left them with headaches when they meditated, too. The visible world dropped away, the red of their eyelids fading into nothing as the other world took form. Marsh had never been able to describe it. The other world wasn’t something you  _ saw _ , per se, it was a world of colors-that-weren’t-colors and wind and shapes, superimposed on the visible one. It was made up of clusters and impulses, constantly in a whirl of motion. Despite everything, it was the most beautiful thing that Marsh had ever seen.

This was the most satisfying feeling in the world, shedding the barrier of their skin to let out that constant thrum in their body, begging to be used. It was so loud these days, so tempting. Keeping their breathing under control, Marsh let their focus drift to the way power moved through their body, flowing in steady, stable currents along their circulatory system, a light buzz where their skin ended, swirling together in a lazy whirlpool over their heart. It relaxed them, when the world was like this. Marsh could actually see things as they were, not limited by eyes.

Slowly, they let their thoughts expand, a dawning awareness of the lines of life in the grass, one big, sluggish current under the top layer of soil, spreading over their mind. The trees had a churning essence, all linked together, as above, so below, the backbone of the forest. In the distance, little bursts of light shifted and flickered like ants, the townsfolk moving all around. Someone was in the woods, wandering closer. The whorls of the bugs were starbursts against the vegetation, glittering and sparkling, about to burn out as fast as they had begun.

“Hey bud.” Holly’s voice cut through their thoughts, making everything spin as Marsh tried to refocus on what their eyes saw. “Having fun?”

“I’m meditating.” Their tone was more of a grumble, the sparks and sensations fading back to the ground under them and the sun on their eyelids.

A shuffling sound above their head marked Hollyhock taking a seat on the grass. “Bit of an odd position to meditate in. Isn’t it supposed to be all about sitting with your back straight and being serious?”

“It’s supposed to be that you’re comfortable.” Cracking their eyes open and grimacing at the bright light, they saw their half-elf leaning over them, face easy.

“Hm, I see.” Holly’s grin widened. “Are you making progress?”

“Probably not. You?”

“I’d like to think I was.” His bass was still in the room. Pausing, a look came over Hollyhock’s face. “I’m not interrupting, am I? I can leave if you’d—”

Marsh brought their hands up to smush his cheeks. “If I wanted you to leave, I’d tell you. And look, I’m not telling you.”

That smile that Marsh liked so much returned. “Understood.”

With gentle motions, they pulled Holy down to them, reveling in how pliant he was under their touch. Lips brushed together, awkwardly upside down, but they quickly figured it out, Holly pressing pecks against Marsh’s mouth, his own twisted up with a smile. Stifling a laugh, Marsh’s fingers wandered to the nape of Holly’s neck. They couldn’t help the giggle when Holly feathered kisses across their cheekbones—it tickled!

Holly pulled back with an easy smile. “If you sit up, I can kiss you properly.”

Who was to fault Marsh for obliging, especially not when a warm hand cupped their cheek as they kissed their half-elf, slow and steady, like they had all the time in the world. Maybe they did, maybe the sun was going to stay right where it was, and they would be able to do this for the rest of eternity. Their half-elf. Marsh liked the thought of that. Marsh liked that very much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks, i have a tumblr! https://madrastique.tumblr.com/  
> liked the story? leave a comment
> 
> Fun Fact!!! We have related works!!  
> [ Scales Don't Work Well With Lace by Awkward_Dragon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24123841)


	31. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> staying up all night to read romance novels is a good idea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm guilty of pulling an ahren
> 
> Chapter Warnings:  
> None :3

Ahren had been unfamiliar with others’ sleeping patterns before, but the past two and a half months had been quite a crash course. He had learned a great many things in his time, soon after he accepted the fact of the matter that he  _ was _ going to be sharing a room with someone unless he wanted to offer up the money for lodgings of his own.

It wasn’t that bad, really. All of his companions had different styles of sleeping, but it was nothing that Ahren couldn’t adjust to. Aidia, for example, was partial to mumbling in her sleep, Marsh would curl up into people’s chests, and Holly snored faintly when he was in bed with someone and screamed when he wasn’t. According to the rest of them, Ahren had made a habit of snoring and clicking. He found it fascinating, but that might have stemmed from the fact that these three people and his father had been the only ones Ahren had ever seen sleep.

Nowadays, they all elected to squeeze into one room to save some coin. Yes, it had taken Ahren a fair bit of time to adjust, but, ultimately, it was good. It was… comforting, having everyone in the bed around him, someone curled up in his arms and a warm pressure around him. If anything, he was finding it hard to sleep  _ before _ everyone had settled in, the slow breathing around Ahren incredibly calming. It felt safe, oddly enough, safe in a way he wasn’t sure he had ever felt.

It was odd, they were almost finished with the journey, just a day or so left by carriage until they reached Dalitar. It was odder how comfortable Ahren had gotten around everyone. Maybe it was all the flying he was doing, but he found himself caring less about his companions seeing him naked. It wasn’t like they had much of an issue with him, anyway.

Upon his own insistence, he had flown them farther than he probably should have for a respectable dragon. Eh. Who cared. He had shaved off at least another week of walking in an hour and saved them all of the money they would have spent in inn fees, so why not. It didn’t hurt that, even in his humanoid form, his scales were beginning to shed, and it was driving him insane, so any relief, even from the wind, was better than nothing, and then he could rest.

Ahren’s companions were, at the very least. Aidia was sprawled out on the bed, arm over Marsh’s middle. They had wrapped themselves around Hollyhock, their face pressed into his back. The blanket was barely covering any of them, Holly having kicked the ones on his end off long ago, shirt riding up his midsection and shorts Ahren would have considered scandalously short high on his hips. Aidia had foregone a shirt entirely, complaining amicably that Ahren preferred his rooms far too hot for her. Marsh had stolen one of Aidia’s shirts, more than happy to let it pool around them. It made Ahren’s heart go all soft and mushy.

Tonight, though, tonight Ahren wasn’t intending to get much sleep. He had a book he was determined to finish today, and he was  _ so _ close that he might as well stay up the extra little bit and be done. It was a  _ really _ good book, so it was okay, it wasn’t like Ahren felt tired anyway. Holly had recommended it to him, actually, a romance novel written by a half-elf author. Some of the scenes had been a little steamy, so Ahren had just blushed to himself as he kept reading by the lanternlight.

There was this  _ incredible _ plotline about how this elf noble and human guard were in love, but because of their families and the difference in their positions, they were unable to be together. It tore Ahren’s heart to shreds and he would happily admit that this book had already made him cry. The Elven lead was just so relatable, her family didn’t approve of her, while the human’s parents thought that their daughter would do better with the local baroness that had just divorced her husband.

It was profound—the author was so talented in weaving together emotions, bringing the characters to life on the page. It must have been the best book Ahren had ever read in his life and he  _ needed _ more. He was going to lose his mind if no one woke up soon. Peeking through the curtains, Ahren saw the very beginnings of rosy dawn, the sun shaking itself out of bed. Huh. Maybe he didn’t need to sleep as much as he thought, this was wonderful. Ahren didn’t feel tired in the slightest, no he felt like he could take on the world and more.

Fortunately for him, as the gold light began to creep into the room, Aidia made a noise of waking, stirring. That set off the typical chain reaction in the mornings, Marsh groaning and Hollyhock whining about how early it was. Perfect. Crossing quietly to Hollyhock’s side of the bed, Ahren let his snout rest on the edge of the mattress, inches away from Holly’s dozing face.

When Holly’s eyes blinked open, the only sound he made was a sharp intake of breath, jerking back onto Marsh. Ahren felt something whizz unsettlingly close to his cheek before there was a solid thunk in the wall. Breathing hard, Hollyhock was wide-eyed, Marsh and Aidia staring at him in horror. Turning slowly, Ahren was met with the sight of a simple, sturdy dagger, buried in the wooden paneling of the wall. Okay. That wasn’t what he had planned to see, first thing in the morning.

“Sorry.” There was remorse in Holly’s voice, tinged with a hint of dread. “Sorry, you startled me.”

“Oh, it’s alright.” Ahren said, because what else could you say.

With a gentle push, Marsh removed Hollyhock from his current spot of ‘on top of them’. “I’m going back to sleep.”

“I was going to start my day.” Aidia mumbled, giving Marsh a pat on the head as she slipped into the hall, heading to the inn bathroom. Distantly, Ahren could hear her quiet salutations to their neighbors.

Grumbling, Marsh took the blanket from her and rolled over, tucking themselves back into Hollyhock. For his part, Hollyhock also laid down, hesitantly reaching out his hand in apology to pet between Ahren’s horns. The dragon knew that there was immediate forgiveness on his face as he gave a happy trill, melting into Holly’s touch. He’d remember not to startle him like that next time, but, right now, this was ideal.

“Holly.” Ahren all but purred out, eyes squeezed shut happily.

“Mhm?”

“I’m almost finished with my book and it is  _ so _ good, you  _ must _ read it—it’s the one you recommended to me about the elf and the human and they’re in love and it is  _ beautiful _ !” Ahren’s wings quivered with excitement and he bumped the underside of Holly’s forearm with his snout.

He might as well have spoken Hissery to Holly, judging from the confused look that had settled onto his face when Ahren opened his eyes. “Have—have you slept tonight? It’s morning?”

“By that definition, no!” That didn’t matter, though—finally (finally!) Ahren could  _ talk _ to someone about this book. “It’s okay, I’m not tired, Holly, this book—”

“Ahren, I’m going back to sleep, why don’t you tell me about it during the carriage ride?”

As Holly moved to lie down, Ahren grabbed his hands, a show of intimacy he would have blanched at had they not been partners. “Really?”

Holly freed one of his hands, gently pulling Ahren in for a kiss. “Really. Why don’t you get some rest.”

With a twinge of disappointment, Ahren watched as Hollyhock rolled over to wrap his arms around Marsh, slipping into a slight doze. Trying to keep his movements as quiet as possible, Ahren returned to his chair, cracking open the book where he’d left off. There were only a few pages left, after all, and he  _ needed _ to know if the human and the elf were going to run away to the floating cities of the Polythallas Sea together after the elf’s mother had crashed her wedding.

In the blink of an eye, the sun was fully up, the morning light saturating the room enough that Marsh groaned. Aidia had come back, dressed and ready to shake their companions out of bed. If Ahren was being honest with himself, the only reason he was aware of this was because he had lifted his head from his book, finished.

Smiling widely at Aidia, Ahren stood, going about his normal morning routine. This was wonderful! He should have done this ages ago—did everyone else know that sleep wasn’t entirely necessary? Information like this would revolutionize the medical field, how did Marsh not know about this yet? Either way, they were going to be so pleased that Ahren was helping them in their field, pleased or enraged. Hopefully not enraged. The last thing he wanted was to aggravate them.

Brushing his teeth, Ahren caught a look at himself in the inn bathroom. There were darkened circles under his eyes, like he had smeared eyeshadow all over his face. Wincing, Ahren tried to fight down the memory of his father, one of the few times he had seemed wholly in his own skin, methodically applying concealer to his face to hide a bruise that Ahren’s mother had given him. Ahren had been too young to understand, but he had still felt confused and unnerved by how calm his father’s movements were, no tremor in his hand as he did his makeup perfectly.

His father had always been good at that, taking things in stride and keeping up appearances. Now that he was thinking about it, Ahren couldn’t remember a time where he had actually seen his father speak back to his mother. He was always polite and soft spoken, oftentimes sneaking Ahren little gifts and teaching him things that his mother would likely kill the both of them over.

The day his father had taught him to read and snuck him several books had been one of the best in Ahren’s life. Of course, he wasn’t ignorant of how his mother had retaliated—she knew that his father had stolen them from the library but couldn’t prove it. What use was proof in this household, though? For the next few days, his father was reluctant to lean his back on anything, wincing slightly every time he got to his feet. All for Ahren.

“Hey, can you hurry up a bit?” A voice from outside the door brought Ahren back to reality.

Spitting out the toothpaste, Ahren rinsed himself and the toothbrush off. “Just a moment, sorry.”

“Oh no, it’s fine, I just need to change my baby. I just need to know if I should just go downstairs.” It was odd to Ahren how candid people were, perfectly happy to discuss things through a bathroom door.

“Really, just a moment—my apologies.”

As Ahren stepped out, he was met with a human man, holding a very small human. The man’s eyes assessed him with mild interest as he bounced the baby. In that moment, Ahren realized he had never once in his life seen a baby. Ever. Maybe he was staring, but it was very cute, chewing on one fist and looking back with dark eyes. It wasn’t fully human, its skin a darker green tint and the sclerae of its eyes black. The ears weren’t fully Orcic, though, neither was the hair. It reached for him, making a sound that wasn’t Trade.

The man laughed. “Morric likes you, it seems. Careful, he’s a grabber.”

True to his father’s word, Morric tugged on Ahren’s snout, transferring a pudgy fist to Ahren’s finger when he brought his hands up.

“Your child is beautiful.” That was what you said about babies, right?

“Oh, thank you. He’s in that stage where he doesn’t know any manners and wants to be friends with everyone.” As he said that, the man gave the child a cuddle. “Well, pleasure meeting you and safe travels.”

“The same to you.”

With that, they parted ways, the man ducking inside and Ahren heading back to his rooms. It was interesting, how many people there were around them now. As they had made their way across the continent, of course, the towns had been populated by more and more people. The four of them had been passing far more travelers, and, in a town like this with a waystation, it was positively crowded. It even had multiple inns, a feature that had been growing more and more common as they’d walked.

In the room, Hollyhock and Marsh were getting dressed, Marsh slipping out with a “good morning” to get their morning routine done. Aidia was helping Holly with his hair, the two of them exchanging theories about linguistic drift as it related to Ur-Dochas. It mostly went over Ahren’s head, but it was okay, everyone was happy, and it was going to be a great day.

Only a day or so left. Like the moon rising, a truth came over Ahren. He wasn’t ready for his friends to leave him. That would feel like his own heart was being torn out and trampled by wild horses. It was a reality that he  _ never _ wanted to face again. As childish as it might have seemed, Ahren never wanted to be alone again. Ever. He was going to do whatever it took to ensure that, he was going to ensure that his friends were safe.

With a still-groggy hello, Hollyhock grimaced in the morning light, completely unhappy to be awake. Aidia braided his hair over one shoulder, giving him a pat on the head and sending him on his way to wash up. As Aidia looked over Ahren, a hint of genuine concern entered her eyes. Oh, how he must look, still in his bedclothes.

While Ahren hurriedly changed into his clothing for the day, Aidia leaned against the wall.

“Have you slept?” She sounded worried.

Ahren was probably smiling too widely. “Were you aware that it’s unnecessary?”

There was a beat of silence, like Aidia was trying to process just what Ahren had said to her.

“You need to sleep. It’s a mandatory thing.”

Shaking his head, Ahren plopped down into a nearby chair. “But I feel so much better now that I haven’t! I have found the secret, Aidia.”

The door swung open again and Marsh returned, Hollyhock in tow. The Humanish placed a kiss against Ahren’s cheek as everyone finished up the last of their packing, shrugging their backpacks on. Heading down, Aidia and Holly went to check if the carriage they had arranged for was ready, like two very responsible people. Today was going to be fantastic!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks, i have a tumblr! https://madrastique.tumblr.com/  
> liked the story? leave a comment
> 
> Fun Fact!!! We have related works!!  
> [ Scales Don't Work Well With Lace by Awkward_Dragon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24123841)


	32. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> almost there!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god i had to do math for this one
> 
> Chapter Warnings:  
> none

Ahren did, in fact, need to sleep. As he had touted his new ‘discovery’ to them all, the gentle, rocking motion of the carriage had gotten to him. In Aidia’s personal opinion, it was adorable how his energy had flagged half an hour in, and he had leaned on Hollyhock, just a bit. Soon enough, he was resting his head on Hollyhock’s shoulder, drooling ever so slightly and snoring quietly.

For his part, Holly had the patience of a saint to ignore it, instead staring out the window at the farms and townhouses, balancing the tip of one of his knives absently on the tip of his finger as he tapped his foot on the floorboards to a beat that only he could hear. It was… unnerving, those occasional reminders of how proficient Hollyhock was with a blade. He had such a friendly face, but that aim told the story of years and years of practice. His excuse of life in the wilderness was neither as soothing nor as convincing as he might have hoped.

Looking around to distract herself from the thought of how Holly went about achieving that level of proficiency with knives, Aidia took in the carriage around her. It was rather large, though it was likely just because she was seated next to Marsh and across from Holly. The coat of paint was a well-maintained blue with pale yellow accents around trellises and sills, the royal colors. That would make sense, especially if the owner travelled in and out of Dalitar frequently.

Beside her, Marsh read from their medical book, occasionally scribbling something into the margins. That tome was fascinating, they had mentioned that they were able to exchange messages with others who were in possession of it, that new writing would appear on pages as more information was added to it. Aidia could only wonder at the value of such a thing.

Marsh was mumbling something quietly to Holly when Aidia checked back into the conversation, the knife having been put back into a sheath somewhere on Hollyhock’s body.

“Should I get that for him?” Hollyhock replied to a conversation Aidia would have to play catch up with. “I wouldn’t want to hurt him.”

Glancing up, Aidia noted that the two of them seemed to be talking about a patch of loose skin on Ahren’s brow. He had been shedding a lot more, recently. Until this point, if Aidia was being honest, she hadn’t thought much on whether or not Ahren even had a shed like other reptilians, assuming that he took care of things himself when the time would come.

With a shrug, she elected to reply. “It doesn’t seem very comfortable and it’s about to fall off, anyway.”

Beside her, Marsh hummed in agreement, and Holly peeled it off like skin after a sunburn, tossing it out of the window. Ahren hadn’t even stirred, his hand still loosely clasped in Hollyhock’s. It was a bit endearing, really, how heavily he had begun to sleep around them. It was a far cry, at least, from the man that would jackknife up in bed, eyes shining wide and confused, full of terror at the merest hint of an unfamiliar sound. In all honesty,  _ that _ had taken more adjustment than Hollyhock’s night terrors.

An anxious voice in Aidia’s core asked and asked again the question that had been repeating through her mind for the last week. What was going to happen once they reached the city? Were they all going to split up and go their separate ways? Did they even have the finances to do so, or was it just a pipe dream that some of them harbored. Even worse though, were they going to ask Aidia to leave, now that the three of them were in a relationship?

That would hurt more than anything. Her first friends, asking her to go because she hadn’t been good enough. Picking at her cuticles, Aidia desperately tried to focus on something else,  _ anything _ besides her mother’s voice in her head, lording over her, proclaiming just how right she had been and just how wrong Aidia was to think that anyone would actually care about her.

In her periphery, Aidia could see Hollyhock perk up. “I can see the city walls, there, in the distance.” He pointed, an unreadable emotion in his voice.

Following his finger, Aidia twisted in her seat. He was right. Over the horizon, she could make out the large wall, wrapping around the city proper with a multitude of houses on its outside. It was an ancient thing, if Aidia remembered correctly, the foundations of the city had been laid millennia ago, and, as nations rose and fell, it had remained populated. There were stories of buildings in the old quarter held together by beams of trees that had long since gone extinct, that the sewer system was run by arcane runes, that, if one was lucky, they could meet people that had lived in its walls for thousands of years, speaking with strange accents.

A shimmering ocean stretched behind it, seeming to go on into eternity. It was unlike anything Aidia had ever seen, the wide expanse of water dotted by the tiniest specks of boats, bustling around the ever-busy harbor of Dalitar. It was… awe inspiring. It was  _ huge _ , the scale of everything, the scope of the people here. There hadn’t been anything nearly this size on the footpath—Essren had long since burned that down, but Dalitar was truly jaw dropping, even from this far away.

“It’s incredible, isn’t it?” She murmured.

Hollyhock blinked at her, his eye the same pale blue as the sky. “There’s the charred ruins of a bigger city by where I live. Merchants use it as a landmark when they pass through. You know that the Northwest Territories was a bigger economic hub than the east ever was, right?”

“I—er…” No, Aidia hadn’t known that.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, no one ever knows about that.” He chuckled, going back to looking at the city. “Most people only think about the Territories as a rural, backwards place. They forget that we rebelled against two countries and kept independence longer than the dragons and got it back first.”

He was right. In law, the Northwest Territories was treated less like a province and closer to a foreign country, with discussion of their own laws and peacekeeping forces. It had been both interesting and confusing to study and, if Aidia was being honest, she still didn’t fully understand it. Why would they choose to govern themselves when there was such a stronger nation surrounding them?

Instead of addressing Aidia’s confusion, Holly shook Ahren’s shoulder. The man jerked into wakefulness, flinching at the new surroundings. Aidia watched fear melt away into confusion as Holly pressed a kiss to his forehead and Marsh rested their leg against his. He glanced out of the windows, searching for an explanation.

Jerking his head to the city, Holly squeezed the hand Ahren held. “We’re almost there, you can see the capitol if you want.”

“Oh.” His cheeks colored, hesitantly returning the squeeze like he would be thrown out for doing the wrong thing. “How much longer would you say?”

Marsh shrugged, tapping the back of their pen against the page they had their book open to. “I’d say an hour? Two?”

“That’s… quite soon.” She couldn’t help saying it, picking at her lower lip.

Aidia’s tusks bumped against her fingertips and a drop of cold filled her stomach. Right. She hadn’t filed them down in a long time, with none of the privacy that she had in a house. As they were wont to, they had grown back, marking her ancestry even clearer. Hopefully Aidia would have a moment, once they had all decided where they were going to live, to address that. It was unseemly, to let them return to their full size like she was some kind of simpleton. No one would take her seriously.

As Ahren lifted his head from Holly’s shoulder to look outside, he winced at the little wet spot he had left. “My apologies for the drool.”

The worry was waved away. “I grew up with five dogs, you’re alright.”

A chuckle, more nerves than a response to anything funny, spread through the carriage.

It was Marsh that decided to broach the dreaded topic. “So, what are we doing once we get there?”

Three pairs of eyes met each other, trying to guess at others’ responses. No one spoke, letting the silence stretch for far too long. Clearing his throat, Ahren tried to find his voice.

“Ah, I was speaking with Marsh about listing you all as my entourage? As a diplomat, I am entitled to that and am able to bring any number of people with me to also live in the palace. I wouldn’t want to do that without permission, though, but—um—I would be amenable to it, if everyone would like.” He sounded like he was expecting rejection.

Holly bumped his shoulder with his. “That would be great, actually. I don’t know about everyone else, but I think we make a nice group and I’d miss y’all.”

“I would be amenable to that.” There was a blush creeping up on Aidia’s cheeks, she was sure of it. It was a relief to know that she was staying and that she was wanted.

Marsh shrugged. “I’ve been talking with a person from the medical school here and I’ve gotten myself onto the degree fast-track program, but I’d rather stay with you three.”

“It… it would be rather odd without you all here.” Ahren’s words were more a mumble, face staring into his lap.

A teasing grin spread across Marsh’s face. “You love us.”

The driver’s knock on the little window that opened out to her startled everyone, she turned in her seat, one eye on the road as she spoke. “Sorry to break up something cute, but the outer gates are coming up, so everyone get ready for that.”

“Okay! Thank you very much, Miss!” Holly called up, the smile present in his voice. He was uncannily good at that, saying just the thing to please strangers. After a certain point, Aidia had just started taking notes.

The driver, at least, seemed happy at that. “Oh, it isn’t a problem Sweetie, you kids are great passengers.”

Aidia was torn between being offended that she was called a child or proud that she was a good passenger. “That is such a kind thing to say! You’re an excellent driver!”

She chuckled, turning back to the road. “Such a dear. Okay, look alive, kids, we’ve got guardsmen.”

So they did. Not five minutes later, the carriage clattered to a stop and there was a knock at the door. Hollyhock opened it as Aidia and Ahren fixed their clothing, Marsh putting away their book. A guard stood in the doorway, dressed in his prim, dark blue uniform, looking rather bored. Out of the corner of her eye, as Hollyhock started small talk immediately, Aidia saw Marsh dip their head, letting their hair fall into their face, like they were trying to obscure their features.

Not that the guard noticed, too busy with chatty half-elf and dignified dragon to pay much attention to the quieter, less attention-grabbing inhabitants. From the way he looked at Holly, gaze flicking from his ears back to his face, it seemed likely that the guard wasn’t familiar with unclipped half-elves, especially not as outgoing as Holly. Good.

“Hello, all, could I please ask you to step out of the carriage? This is a routine checkpoint, you have done nothing wrong and you aren’t under arrest.” He stepped back and Ahren managed to look marginally calmer.

If Aidia was being honest, between her and Hollyhock, they likely knew the law better than the guardsman. It was common for people brought up in the Northwest Territories to be well versed in law, especially as it pertained to autonomous regions in the kingdom. Where Aidia’s strength was in political law, she was very confident that Hollyhock could weasel them out of a murder charge. At least, that was what her lessons from her mother had taught her, in between reminders to never trust anyone who wasn’t a proper citizen. Aidia could probably throw away that piece of advice.

As the four of them exited, the guard calmly led them to the guard station, explaining things about paperwork and filings. Hollyhock had just nodded along, looking a bit bored, while Marsh scowled and Ahren worried. Nothing was different. Nothing, except for mandatory medical tests. The guard had explained that it was to prevent disease spread and to get medical assistance to all that needed it when they entered the city for the first time. Aidia thought it was utter nonsense, but it was necessary to get everyone’s papers in order.

Inside, it was clean and well furnished, multiple curtained-off areas off to the side. They were split into pairs, given pens and sheets of printed papers. A waiting area, decorated with simple chairs meant for a wide variety of species and a desk, took up most of the structure. As Ahren and Aidia were led away for their basic examinations, Holly and Marsh offered to start on the paperwork that they needed to be done.

There was another guard inside the sectioned off room, and, as the other led Ahren to his own private area, he closed the pale green fabric of the curtain. Let it not be said Aidia was excited about this. Medical examinations had to be some of the cruelest tribulations in all of history, all of your private information spilled out to a near stranger in the name of accuracy and health. Was it not enough for her to  _ feel _ healthy?

The woman in front of her wasn’t Aidia’s idea of a representative of Dalitar, either. She was dressed in the same uniform as the guards outside, a dark blue suit with brass buttons, pale-yellow accents and simple embroidery marking out the royal crest on the breast pocket. She was a half-orc, though, less Elven looking than Aidia. It was a surprise, really, that she would be allowed to serve like this, the potential first face people saw to be a green-skinned, dark-eyed woman with unfiled tusks and long hair. She was… she was pretty. In an Orcic way. The last thing Aidia wanted to address was the implication of that thought.

“Hi, I’m Borau.” She said with a polite smile. Creator, she even had an Orcic name and an accent from Eragah, why did she end up moving here. “I will be doing your cursory medical examination.”

“Aidia, pleasure to meet you.” The phrase was said more out of politeness. Unconsciously, Aidia found herself comparing their heights. Aidia was taller.

The guard smiled, showing off her pointed little tusks, capped with bits of silver. It matched her complexion well, Aidia had to admit. “A lovely name. I will now start with some questions: first of all—do you have any health complications or issues? This includes congenital issues or allergies.”

Aidia had forgotten how melodious an Eragej accent could sound, the way the vowels twinkled on the air and the sibilants sounded so much like wind whipping through trees. “No, none that I am aware of.”

“Wonderful!” What was so wonderful about it, Aidia didn’t know. “Have you suffered any injuries over the course of your journey that may require treatment upon entering the city?”

“No, our medic had done good work.”

She took down some notes, nodding. “Alright. And mental health?”

…What? “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Will you be seeking treatment for mental health? I am able to recommend many providers to you, if so.” The guard smiled as she said it, like it was something that was the most normal thing in the world.

Aidia couldn’t help the nervous smile that came over her face. This had to be a test, right? What else could it be? Sure, the Elven Queen had been preaching reforms for too long, but this was a step beyond believable. To have a half-orc asking her about mental health like Aidia wouldn’t lie about any issues she had. It was ridiculous, with the memories of the camps still fresh in everyone’s minds. Sure, Amokyani had been shut down, but the death toll was still being calculated.

She was silent for too long. The guard had noticed. This was not going to end favorably—

“It’s alright,” her smile was soft and easy, voice hushed, “you aren’t going to come to any harm for your answer, this is merely so that those who need help are able to easily find it.”

“My answer would be ‘no’, even still.” Aidia kept her voice firm. There was no way she was getting put on a list.

“Of course. Is there anything else that you would like to tell me? Any questions or concerns?”

Picking at her cuticles, Aidia steeled her nerves. “May I ask a personal question?”

A thoughtful blink preceded her answer. “Within reason, I can’t see a reason why not.”

“Why have you moved down here? Do you not feel uncomfortable?”

“I was a part of one of the early cultural exchange programs, and I thought it a nice place, so I decided to stay.” The way she said it made it sound like the obvious choice. “At first, it was a bit unusual, though it is far better nowadays. People are quite polite, I’ve found.”

That was… so different from what Aidia’s mother had said. “But… again, forgive me if this is too personal, but you have elected not to file down your tusks? Do people not stare?”

A concerned look passed over the woman’s face. “Not anymore, not for several years. Doesn’t that  _ hurt _ ? I have read some sources that suggest filing can cause permanent damage to dentition and create permanent aches and muscle damage in the jaw.”

Silence passed between them for just a moment. “I have been informed that it is a matter of personal grooming.” Aidia’s words were quiet. “My apologies if it was insensitive.”

“It is alright. You’re free to leave, thank you for your compliance.” The guard was still smiling. “I hope you have a good stay.”

“Er, thank you. Have a nice day.” Pulling aside the curtain, Aidia tried to ignore the way emotions were stirring about in her stomach.

Ahren had finished his own examination, and Marsh stood up, giving Aidia’s shoulder a friendly bump as they passed her to get their own out of the way. She could hear Hollyhock speaking with his own guard as he was checked, happily making small talk and getting recommendations about where to dine. It was rather impressive, really, how adept he was at getting a verbal map of the city, along with any attractions he might have been interested in. Had he gotten a chatty guard, or had he just drawn someone out of their shell?

Pulling up a chair to join Ahren at his desk, Aidia noted that there was still a rather large stack of paperwork before him. Evidently, it took a lot of forms to register an entourage. “Would you like some help?”

The relief in Ahren’s eyes broke her heart. “Yes, please. Would you happen to know when Hollyhock’s birthday is? Marsh was having a lot of trouble with the math—numbers stick in their head as much as letters in mine.” It was said like a joke, like Aidia wasn’t aware that Marsh had dyscalculia.

“Holly was born on the fifth of Agraz, the 9836 th year. It’s just after the spring solstice.” He had mentioned it at one point, and he had the same birthday as her mother.

“Thank you—er…” Ahren’s wings shifted uncomfortably. “How would I spell ‘Agraz’?”

“A-G-R-A-Z. Do you need Marsh and my birthdays?”

“No, they were able to help me with that.” There was a hesitancy in his voice.

Scooting forward, Aidia took one of the packets that looked relatively simple to fill out, along with a pen. “I’ll work on this one. Is there a problem?”

Ahren didn’t meet her eyes. “Please don’t think that I’m a fool but would you be able to help me figure out my birthday?”

“Of course.” The answer was immediate.

“I was born four weeks before the winter solstice, three hundred and thirty-six years ago.”

Doing a little math, Aidia came up with the answer. “The eleventh of Teriokene, the 9520 st year.”

“Thank you.”

He was quiet for a bit more and Aidia took that time to get through a few quick pages of general information about everyone involved. It mostly just consisted of checking boxes, chronicling the dietary restrictions of Ahren’s new entourage. Thank the Creator that Holly and Marsh were vocal about what they liked, didn’t like, and couldn’t eat. It at least made documentation easier.

“Aidia?” Ahren’s voice, small and quiet, broke her out of her flow.

“Yes, Ahren?” She set aside those completed forms and moved on. Housing, lovely.

There was some nervous rustling as his hand tightened around the pen, clearly careful so as not to break it. “May I ask you something that you’re going to laugh at?”

“I won’t laugh.” Why would she laugh at an honest question?

Even still, he shifted his wings closer to himself, as if he was trying to make himself smaller. “Could you help me spell my name?”

Aidia blinked. Now that she thought of it, Ahren had always been slow when reading, never saying the words aloud. From what little she had seen, his letters, which had appeared to be the hesitant scrawl of someone unfamiliar with Trade at first blush, came to look more like someone who was having difficulty fixing them in his head.

Calmly and slowly, Aidia did spell it out for him, first and last, going through her own papers as she did so. Ahren was able to work much faster with the assistance, Aidia spelling out anything he needed to know. Slowly but surely, he started to look less like he was waiting for the laughter to come, for the taunting and teasing. True, it slowed Aidia down somewhat, but it was negligible in the grand scheme of things, and, together, they finished up just as Hollyhock and Marsh were able to exit, Holly stopping by the front desk, presumably to ask about the next steps before rejoining everyone.

As Ahren submitted the paperwork and the four of them waited patiently for the identification cards to be given to them, Marsh pressed a kiss to Holly’s cheek, trying to lift the sour expression. Well, it wasn’t  _ sour _ outwardly, but they had travelled enough with each other to know when someone was in a bad mood.

“What happened?” Aidia kept her voice quiet, like it was a secret between the four of them. “It sounded like you were having a nice conversation.”

Hollyhock adjusted his shirt. “Sure was, until he started asking about my parentage and upbringing. Real big deal that my parents are still together around here, isn’t it.”

This… had to be the first time Aidia had actually heard Holly angry. It must have been, because she had never heard Hollyhock’s accent before. Despite everything, it was there, a light twang, shifting the sounds around in his mouth. Almost as an afterthought, Aidia realized she had never actually heard a Northwest Territories accent before, only read about them. If she was being honest with herself, it was far less drawn out than the books described, Holly’s words quick and sharpened.

Before she could comment, though, they were being called up to collect everyone’s papers, little identification cards to ensure that they belonged in the kingdom. Holly and Marsh looked rather unamused at that, tucking them away without much thought. Ahren, though, looked like this was a gift from his God, proof that he belonged somewhere. Despite herself, Aidia couldn’t help feeling the same way. It might have been a little slip of reinforced paper, but it was evidence that it wasn’t just her, alone in a world that didn’t want her. It was nice to have a reminder now and then.

Wishing the guards goodbye, Hollyhock’s smile all polite vitriol and Aidia’s apologetic, if only to keep them from being stopped, they left to the sound of someone rounding on one of their coworkers, growling that ‘the next time they were rude to a half-elf, they were going to be wading through inclusivity training until they were dragged away by the current’. That brought a genuine grin to Hollyhock’s face.

“You reported him, didn’t you.” Aidia almost didn’t catch Marsh’s quiet mumble.

As Holly clambered into the carriage after Ahren, he chuckled. “Bitches get stitches, Marsh.”

Marsh’s laugh made the horses flinch in its suddenness, but it was contagious enough that even Ahren had a little giggle, hidden behind his hand. Everyone finished settling in, and they were on their way quickly, passing through the first set of gates, ready to be admitted into the city proper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks, i have a tumblr! https://madrastique.tumblr.com/  
> liked the story? leave a comment
> 
> Fun Fact!!! We have related works!!  
> [ Scales Don't Work Well With Lace by Awkward_Dragon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24123841)


	33. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> at long last, the palace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "fuck that elven dude" - m'editor
> 
> also donate to bail funds and black lives matter. dont fucking brag abt going to protests and dont spread pics of protester's uncensored faces
> 
> Chapter Warnings:  
> Fantasy Microaggressions  
> Holly Fucking Hates The Palace

They had to switch carriages at the entrance of the city, one with the royal insignia waiting for them at the gates. In Holly’s opinion, it was a waste of time, but Aidia and Ahren seemed excited about it, eagerly informing Holly and Marsh that this was a great honor, that they were going to be guests of the crown, whatever that meant. Suffice to say, Hollyhock was not very impressed with this, there was no real reason that he should care that their carriage now had a blooming andia flower with two crossed swords behind it on the side or fancy curtains on the windows. If anything, he missed his horse-drawn carts back home and the merchant caravans.

None of the city seemed like it had been built with much in mind. It was a gigantic, sprawling mess. Hollyhock had underestimated the amount of people that were to be in it, used to mid-sized towns at the largest, the cities around him burned to the ground decades before his birth. There were people  _ everywhere _ , rushing around, doing things. It was giving him a headache, the amount of faces and conversations flashing at him, all the new smells around him, overlapping and disagreeing with each other.

He hated it. The very air around him made him grit his teeth, jaw tight as he tried to focus on anything, on picking out a single thread to follow in this tapestry. Everything was begging for his attention all at once, screaming for him, from the quiet, excited conversation in the carriage to the people shouting their wares in the streets.

As their carriage passed through the districts, progress slow on account of everything else on the road, Ahren and Aidia chatted about various things they had heard were popular, likely things that hadn’t been in fashion for ten years or more. For their part, Marsh scowled out of the window, looking bored with everything around them. Wonderful.

The cobblestones under their wheels were ancient, worn down by generations of use. This was an old city, and that only became more visible as they passed through the older quarters, closer to the heart of the town, where the palace was located. Simple, modern wooden structures were replaced with buildings made of stone, the architectural style reminiscent of some of the older buildings in the Territories, columns and pillars supporting the weight of houses that had likely been there for several centuries.

The Old Quarter, as Aidia had excitedly explained to them as they entered, was the oldest continuously occupied locale in Galailan. Hollyhock doubted that, but he knew enough to keep his mouth shut. It was pretty, at least, the materials rare things that Holly hadn’t seen much in his time. Temporally, though, it was off, like someone had mixed together several different architectural styles. Sweeping curves were sat next to jagged, severe buildings, symbols carved into the material here and there. It reminded Holly a bit of Ur-Dochas, if it had been a smaller town and if it had encountered Ilvoni building styles—a hint of familiarity in a sea of novelty.

Soon enough, though, they were passing through the gates to the royal district. The manicured houses of the nobles greeted them, expensive looking with large, ornamental gardens. Holly wasn’t usually a stickler for these kinds of things, but all he could think about was the year it had snowed in Lictine, just before the solstice, and enough crops had died that people turned to some of the wildflowers. None of the blooms that he saw were non-toxic.

Passing into the royal compound, the change was stark. Exotic, out of season plants lined the throughway they were being taken down, which was itself perfect in every way. Neatly swept marble slabs and inlaid gold ornamenting the diamond-patterned tile had replaced the cobblestones, the path smoother under the carriage’s wheels.

The perfume of the flowers was subtle, but still enough to overpower everything else in the air, coating Holly’s tongue in a slimy film of ‘floral’. Guards were stationed at checkpoints along the way, as if someone was going to leap out of a carriage and start a swordfight in the middle of the street. It was a bit overbearing, really. The country had been in peace for the last decade and a half, there was no real need for this amount of security.

In the gardens proper, there were people—likely visiting dignitaries and nobles, dressed in absurdly expensive clothing, taking strolls around various promenades. Holly really couldn’t understand the appeal of this all, perfectly manicured lawns and gardens that were more about flaunting wealth than any real use.

Almost of its own free will, a dark melody hummed up, bubbling in the back of Holly’s throat, just loud enough for him to hear. He just wanted everything to lessen, for the flashy opulence to hurt less, for the smells and sounds to be muted. Tightening his hand around his bass, he took refuge in the feel of wood under his fingers, something real in a sea of transient sensations. Hopefully, he wasn’t going to vomit. That would be a problem.

Next to him, Aidia gently nudged his knee with hers, sympathy written on her face. She was faring better than Hollyhock, able to process her surroundings without feeling like she was riding through fire and brimstone as her brain took in everything, the world an onslaught to her senses. Lucky her.

Marsh had curled up in their seat, leaning against Ahren. Their nose was firmly in their jacket, scowling outside as Ahren’s arm pressed them into him. They had darted their eyes to Holly at the first strains of his voice, eyes curious. Pausing his song to smile, Holly’s senses came back to him full force, making him wince. It was going to be wonderful to stay here.

Oblivious to his partners’ discomfort, Ahren was starry-eyed, attention wholly fixed outside. The world had fallen away for him, a wide smile on his face. His wings had drifted higher, flaring out ever so slightly in his excitement. Holly watched him take deep breaths, enjoying the sights and the sounds of the gardens as they passed. Out of all of them, he had probably dressed the nicest, several layers of formal clothing, while Holly and Marsh had elected to go with what they had, comfortable and serviceable clothing. The only one that remotely matched him was Aidia, with her nice top and long, pale-yellow skirt.

By the time the carriage stopped in the receiving area, Holly and Marsh were wound up enough to happily lock themselves in a nice, quiet bathroom and sit in a small, dark space for several hours. That was a gift that would likely not be coming, though, from how eager Ahren looked. No, chances are that the four of them had several hours of polite nodding as people spoke at them in Higherspeak. It wasn’t like anyone actually  _ used _ Higherspeak outside of politics, but norms were norms.

The coachman opened the door, introducing them as “Ahren of Jarra-Hzsii and his entourage”, which Holly found aggravating for a couple of reasons. One, they had names. Surprisingly, every single person in this carriage had at least one name that they could use and respond to. Some of them even had several. Suffice to say, there were options to pick from in the name department that weren’t just treating them like Ahren’s property. It wasn’t like Ahren heard, though, still dazzled by the opulence around them.

Second of all, there was no one else here save the guards, who presumably knew who they were. It was beyond useless. Just how many travelers were they expecting today, especially ones that they had clearly been forewarned of. They’d sent a carriage for them, for the gods’ sakes, Holly was decently sure that they knew who every one of them was.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a similar sentiment on Marsh’s face, tired and grumpy at the display they had been subjected to. Really, Holly had to think, the amount of produce they could provide if they planted a proper garden on all that land instead of decorative flowers and grass, meticulously contained to its allocated space with the fervor of a revolutionary. It was ridiculous, so much land going to waste because of an aesthetic choice.

Either way, Aidia and Ahren were more than eager. It was like this was the new year, the palace a fountain of gifts. Their eyes sparkled with the sight of it all, excited beyond measure. What they saw in this, Holly couldn’t understand. It was just rich people with an absurd amount of power talking about all of the rich people things they did. What he wouldn’t do to have a proper conversation about the harvest or different concentrations of fertilizer. At least rich people knew things about magic.

As Ahren and Aidia left the carriage, Marsh and Holly hesitated to follow. The coachman offered them all a hand as they exited, a stiff expression on his face the moment he saw Hollyhock. Right. It probably hadn’t been a great idea to put his hair in a ponytail for this if he didn’t want people staring at his ears. Wonderful. The elf’s eyes flickered from Holly to Aidia and back again, like he was trying to find the punchline of a joke, unaware that Hollyhock was far too tired for these types of antics. Could they just get this all over with?

No, they could not. All but bouncing on the tips of his toes, Ahren was looking around. It was an opulent area, Holly had to admit. There was a chandelier dangling from the vaulted ceiling, ready to provide extra lighting the second the sun began to dip below the horizon. The marble floors were neat and perfect, polished to a high shine. There were columns all around, holding up a white-washed overhang.

Guards flanked the entrance to the palace proper, a heavy-looking wooden door, inlaid with rich gold. It looked old, an odd magic humming just beneath the surface. Huh. Holly had never had an aptitude for magic before, but he could sense it now, plain as day. The best way he could describe it was a hushed voice whispering in his ear, informing him that it was a ward, that it could make a sanctuary around the palace, sealing off the outside world if need be. There was a similar thing around the gates of the palace complex, a barrier for magic.

Holly was brought out of his thoughts by Marsh’s hand, clasped around his and tugging him along. Aidia was saying something about the historical significance of the palace, but Holly genuinely couldn’t bring himself to care. It felt… tired in here, like someone had taken all the life and excitement and replaced it with an exhausted trepidation. It was like everyone was anticipating a war at any moment, ready for the sky to crack open and swallow them all whole.

The quartet were led through the hallways, one guard in front and one in the back. Without a word, Aidia’s hand slipped into Hollyhock’s, her other held by Ahren. Despite her excitement, there was a tremor in it, like she was still afraid of being separated. It was like a conversation between the four of them, a promise that no one else would hear.

One of the guards, the human in front, gave them all a smile as they were taken through a maze of wealth. Tapestries and artwork lined the walls, servants rushing to and fro. Everything just seemed so busy, like a city within a city. How anyone could keep up was anyone’s guess. If this was what Ahren and Aidia thought was the ideal, Hollyhock would have to disagree.

The guard in the lead spoke, her voice calm and even. “Is this your first time in Dalitar?”

“How could you tell?” Hollyhock joked, a smile plastering over discomfort.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but the four of you don’t seem to be regulars here.” There was a laugh in her voice. “I know the palace can be a bit overwhelming and strange at first, but I’ve found it quite nice.”

Frowning, Marsh moved closer to Hollyhock, shifting their grip from his hand to his arm. “It’s very… shiny.”

The guard behind them stifled a chuckle. Turning, Holly could see that he was an elf, all tan skin and pale hair. Something about him made Holly want to pierce his ears again. There was just this… energy that he put out. Suffice to say, Hollyhock didn’t like him, or the way he looked at Holly. There were only so many ways a look like that could end.

“That it is. Where are you all from?” He locked eyes with Holly as he said it.

“Marsh and I are from Centrailia.” Aidia offered, gesturing at Marsh as she spoke.

Clearing his throat, Ahren was next to go. “The Draconic Autonomous Region, though I suppose that it is a bit obvious.”

The guard in front laughed. It was Hollyhock’s turn, unfortunately. Arming himself with the smile his mother wore when she had to chase Hakiron the Elf out of town using only her words because violence was not an option. Holly was pretty sure that he wasn’t allowed to use a pitchfork in the palace for a couple of reasons.

“Northwest Territories.” Short, curt answers. He clearly wasn’t interested in a man ten years his se—

“Really?” The guard took a step forward. “Quite a long journey, isn’t it?”

Subtly, Aidia shifted closer to the man, letting Holly fall behind her. “It was nothing at all, right?” No names, she was smart.

“Nope, nothing. Lots of fun.”

Ahead of them, Holly could see Ahren’s brows draw together at Holly’s disinterested tone.

“Wow, you must have seen some fascinating things.” Why wouldn’t this elf take the  _ hint _ . “I would  _ love _ to hear about them some—”

“Kaidren, another word out of your mouth.” The human guard’s tone left no doubt that something quite unfortunate would happen to Kaidren.

For his part, Kaidren flapped his mouth like a dead fish. “Alice, I was only making conversation.”

Her glare didn’t waver, and Marsh’s hand slipped to the small of Holly’s back. Oh no.

“Me and my boyfriend are very excited to be in the city.” Marsh said, with far more possessiveness and not nearly enough excitement for polite conversation.

Fighting the blush off of his cheeks, Holly resisted the urge to look at their face, hearing the fury bubbling just below the surface clear as day. That made the last piece of the puzzle click in Ahren’s head, his smile falling. Holly could feel Aidia come in closer, as if to shield him, Marsh bringing him up to Alice. It was embarrassing, really, but Holly let them think they were helping, even if he could still feel Kaidren’s eyes on his ass.

Alice gave her partner one last glare before speaking quietly to Hollyhock. “I’m so sorry that this happened. I promise you, I will be reporting him to the highest command possible. This type of behavior is beyond unacceptable.”

“Oh, it’s fine.” The words weren’t Hollyhock’s, really. He felt tired and cold inside, like today had scooped out everything meaningful and replaced it with a hollow, empty feeling. “I’m used to it.”

Oh, those were the wrong words to say. The look Aidia shot him was one of horror, her hand tightening around his. Wincing internally, Holly kept up that polite smile, trying to figure out how to end this conversation as quickly as possible.

“Why?” Her voice was quiet, like the answer would disturb some greater cosmic force.

“Plenty of people have a half-elf fetish, especially when they’re unclipped.” Shrugging, Hollyhock ignored the stares, Ahren having forgotten that little tidbit. “We would have to chase some folks out of my hometown now and again because we don’t clip out there, and with the borders re-opened…” They had some characters.

Alice’s hand covered her mouth. “That’s horrible.”

Gods, why did people from Galailan proper forget so easily that the Northwest Territories was its own country with its own culture before it was incorporated—and poorly, at that. “It’s fine, really. Say, would there happen to be any soothsayers in town? I was thinking I might get a blessing. Good luck and protection from the restless dead, is all.”

“I believe so, yes.” She thought for a moment, nibbling at her lower lip. “It would be in the south quarter, close to where the Vakrion Plaza is, just ask for directions to there.”

Ahren tilted his head and Holly resisted the temptation to free one of his arms and run his fingers through the horns on his head. “What’s the Vakrion Plaza?”

That brightened Alice’s expression, clearly happy to be of help. “Right, my apologies! It commemorates the reintegration of the autonomous provinces with Galailan! There’s this beautiful bronze statue, it’s outside of the old city walls, but much of the city is, at this point. It marks the beginning of the new south quarter, you would pass through it if you were to go down the coastline some.”

“I thought the entire city was walled?” Marsh’s eyebrows drew together.

“It is, the original walls were extended a decade ago to account for the expansion. You might find that there’s still a few ancient walls from older periods around the city, but the third outer walls are the newest and encompass all of it, for now.” Alice said it with a wink. “I used to be a tour guide.”

Blinking, Aidia gave her a disbelieving look. “Please, I don’t mean to be rude, but is that an actual profession? I have lived in a small town for nearly all of my life, so I must admit, I do not know much about tourism.”

The laugh was genuine and unexpected. “Don’t even worry about it. Yes, it’s a real profession and no, it doesn’t pay all that well. I liked it though, but being a guard is nice, too. A change of pace.”

“Is there a lot of tourism nowadays?” Ahren asked, almost hesitant.

“Yes, especially the longer we get into the current reign. The Queen and King have done wonders for international and domestic travel, I would say.” Behind them all, Kaidren let out a quiet huff, still silently sulking.

With a wide smile, Alice paused beside a large doorway, gilded in silver and gold. It was framed by two iron-wrought lanterns affixed to the walls, small piles of stones on the bottoms that glowed a beautiful orange red, like coals from a fire. Hollyhock could sense magic emanating from them, supplementing the light pouring in from the large, stained glass windows. All in all, it was impressive and beautiful, powerful runes inlaid into the precious metals.

“Well, we’ve arrived at the throne room.”

So they had, Alice, so they had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks, i have a tumblr! https://madrastique.tumblr.com/  
> liked the story? leave a comment
> 
> Fun Fact!!! We have related works!!  
> [ Scales Don't Work Well With Lace by Awkward_Dragon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24123841)


	34. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> welcome to the palace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the queen? you mean the nicest character in this entire story?
> 
> Chapter Warnings:  
> None

As the doors opened, Ahren was struck by how neat and clean it was. Glittering jewels had been embedded in the doors, polished to a shimmering sparkle. The palace was such a well-oiled machine, everyone knowing where they were meant to be at all times. It made him a bit nostalgic, his mother’s castle had been much the same way, all of her servants beholden to her will.

On the other side of the doors, there was a receiving parlor, the floor tiled with a complex pattern made of marble and gold, diamonds forming constellations here and there. Three large chandeliers hung from the ceiling, the light of the enchanted stones catching on the precious metals and jewels. There were giant stained-glass windows, curtains pulled back, depicting scenes of old. Ahren didn’t know enough about the history of the kingdom to be able to place the images with stories, but Aidia likely did.

A large table made of obsidian dominated the floorspace, enough chairs to seat a delegation and then some, though there were only enough place settings for the four of them. At the head of it sat two elves, dressed in flawless decadence. The man—the  _ King _ —wore a suit of pale blue silk, dark gold adornments and highlights woven through it. His hair, a darker blonde than his wife’s, was done up in complex braids, golden accessories glinting in the light, the jewels of the crown matching his features.

The Queen, though, the Queen wore her crown like it was an extension of her. Her dress was a darker blue, sapphires and yellow diamonds sewn into it. Platinum blonde hair was swept into an elaborate style, ending in an effortlessly severe bun. She was the paler of the two, every part of her being looking like light’s shadow. Her eyes were even more colorless than Hollyhock’s, not even a hint of blue, the lightest grey imaginable.

Beside them sat the Princess, a darker skinned Humanish woman. Her dress matched her father more, the neckline low enough for her sleeves to nearly fall off of her shoulders. A necklace of gold and topaz adorned her neck, her hair pulled into the pleats of an unmarried Elven woman. It was unlike anything Ahren had ever seen, artificially colored to a light pink. Her eyes, a deep, glittering purple, looked out with practiced placidity, hands neatly folded in her lap. A smaller crown sat atop her head, the design evocative of her parents’.

Ahren was horribly underdressed. He could have preserved his virtue better if he’d have come naked. The royal family likely thought him an insolent thing, daring to come into their palace so late, without any decorum. His companions were far from a boon on that front, Holly and Marsh looking horribly uncomfortable in such a fancy setting and something plotting in Aidia’s eyes. Oh no.

Trying to save what little dignity he had left, Ahren bowed deeply. “Your Majesties, it is an honor to be in your presence.” Behind him, Aidia performed a flawless curtsey while Holly and Marsh clumsily bowed, imitating Ahren.

They simply nodded to him, the Elven Queen speaking in a cool, collected voice. “Child of Jarra and Hzsii, we have been expecting you. Please, take a seat.”

Her words were in Higherspeak, the dialect of high society. Out of the corner of his eye, Ahren could see Holly and Marsh glance at him and Aidia, evidently uncomprehending. Striding up to the table, Ahren did his best to project confidence as his entourage followed him, taking their seats with varied levels of politeness. It was Ahren that sat closest to the royal family, his place setting at the Queen’s left. Aidia was beside him, followed by Marsh and Hollyhock, who were eyeing the sandwiches present on the table and the scones respectively. A purple tea was poured for them, a violet and herbal blend from the north. It was rather rare to find it this far down the coast.

“Was your journey alright?” The Queen’s voice was deep and serious, slipping into a lightly accented Trade.

Right answers, she wanted the right answers. “I fear that, in the beginning, I was plagued with illness. Afterwards, though, I met my current companions. They’ve been most helpful, your Majesty.”

“Yes, you had made a note of that incident in the report you have submitted.” The princess’s ears perked up at that, curiosity shielded off in her face. “I would still be comforted if you were to make use of our medical facilities.”

Ahren could sense the shift in Marsh’s demeanor at the Queen’s doubt. It was subtle, something he was surprised to find himself noticing. The Humanish’s moods had once seemed as unknowable as the sea, but now they were a laid bare brook, the murmurings of the current familiar. More than anything, Ahren hoped that they knew enough to keep from aggravating the Queen.

“If you insist, I will.” Was what he said, calm and neutral.

“Wonderful. Please, eat. I do hope that you will find integration to the Council of Dragons seamless; do forgive that they began without you—there was a need to engage in negotiations and discussion.”

“Oh, it is quite alright, I would expect nothing less.”

Beside the Queen, her husband took a sip of his tea, not reacting to his partner’s words. She continued, not bothering to confer with him. “I do hope that we will find peace, it would be a shame to see discord break out in times like this.”

As her mother spoke, the princess cast her eyes to Aidia, giving her a polite, though genuine smile, taking a scone off of the serving tray. The half-orc smiled back, perfect as always, lowering her eyes. Interesting. While Holly and Marsh had their lunch of teacakes and a sandwich respectively, an attendant in the corner of the room moved to the Elven Queen’s side, handing her some papers and whispering into the space in between the two royals so that both could hear.

Wait,  _ could _ the King hear? Ahren had picked up on rumors here and there that the King was either deaf or silenced, but it was rather hard to tell which was true. He didn’t have any visible injuries and he seemed to be able to eat just fine, but he also leaned in when the attendant spoke, focused on her words.

With a nod, the Elven Queen turned back to Ahren. “Child of Jarra and Hzsii, it has been brought to my attention that your family had sent forward medication for you. If you wish, you may retrieve it from the alchemist’s quarters in the southern wing of the garden.”

“Excuse me, my Queen.” Marsh piped up, setting their sandwich down. “Ahren isn’t on any medication. I’m his doctor and there isn’t anything wrong with him.”

She cleared her throat, brows ever so subtly drawing together. “I see. Are the both of you aware of the effects of the medications in question? I fear that there may be issues if they are halted, especially so suddenly.”

“Your Highness, I do not mean to seem presumptuous,” Ahren’s face was burning, “but I have not been taking them for the last three months and have had no ill effects, aside from a bout of illness.”

Hollyhock chewed on his lip, brows drawing together, while Aidia tried to school her face into a neutral expression. For their part, Marsh did no such thing, opting to appear visibly confused and concerned.

“Yes, I would love to know what the effects are.” They crossed their legs, letting one elbow rest on the table like this was someone’s house that they were invited in and not, in actuality, a palace.

Queen Malaidor blinked at them. “Of course. The formulas sent to us were that of a hormone blocker, an intrinsic arcana blocker, a mood stabilizer, and a sedative. I have been informed that it is a rather disconcerting cocktail.”

Horrified eyes turned to Ahren, Hollyhock mouthing what Ahren could only guess was a string of curse words in Ilvoni. Bless the Maker that the royal family was likely not familiar with the languages of the Northwest Territories. There was a horrified look on Aidia’s face, her leg pressing against his as if to comfort him.

“Have you been on them since you were a child?” Her voice was quiet.

“Yes? They were keeping me healthy?” Why this was such a huge matter, Ahren didn’t know. He had taken medication and, evidently, outgrown them.

There was genuine fury in Marsh’s voice. “Motherfu—”

“I believe you can now see why we were concerned.” The Elven Queen interjected, something in her tone that Ahren couldn’t place. It was somewhere between blankness and protectiveness; a dash of pity so faint he could have sworn he imagined it. “While I respect Doctor…”

“Mallowmarsh.” Ahren provided, quietly.

“Doctor Mallowmarsh’s opinion, I wonder if it would do good to see the royal physician as well, as a supplement. She has a great deal of experience with dragons and would be more than happy to work with Doctor Mallowmarsh.” Her words were said with a great deal of politeness, as if she expected Marsh to loudly protest.

Instead, they nodded. “Just Marsh is fine, and I’d love to hear what she has to say. I’ve been learning dragon on the fly, so I wouldn’t consider myself an expert.”

The Queen smiled and it was unsettling in its artificiality. “Then I am just Malaidor, please.” Oh, so Ahren was just going insane right now. He was actively hallucinating. Was he even in the palace?

“I would have to accept, Your Highness.” He heard himself saying.

“Of course.” As she spoke, the King nudged her, and her attention was briefly focused on something under the table. The unnerving smile dropped from her face in favor of the previous placid expression. “There is no need to be so formal, I will not fault you for it.”

Immediately, Marsh and Holly relaxed, though Aidia kept her posture perfect, preparing for this to be a joke played on them. Ahren couldn’t help but see it her way—the Elven Queen was just a tad too informal to be believable. This was surely some sort of test. As he watched the attendant leave, returning to her original spot by the wall, Ahren noticed the royal guards. There were two, an Elven man and a human woman, standing just out of the way, close enough to be of use should it come to that.

Ignoring the way Holly and Marsh signed at each other to pass various things of food, Ahren felt a shudder run down his spine. The last thing he wanted was to give the guards a reason to think they were a threat. It would be bad, very bad. Ahren was not interested in finding out what the palace dungeons looked like.

“Do you all sign?” The Queen’s voice snapped Ahren out of his thoughts and he felt himself fidget slightly. His scales itched with the beginnings of his shed in a horribly distracting way.

With a nod, Aidia rested her folded hands at the edge of the table. “Yes, are you familiar?”

“I am indeed, though my husband is far better than I.” She brushed her fingers against the armrest of his chair.

Smiling, the King bowed his head and signed, his hand moving in precise, confident motions. ‘Hello, it’s a pleasure to meet you all.’

The Queen refolded her hands in her lap, nodding to a steward that dashed out of the room. “Your rooms will be ready soon. Until then, I fear that we have not been properly introduced. I am, of course, Queen Malaidor, though, as I have told Sair Marsh, ‘Malaidor’ is just fine. This is my husband, King Galengar, and my daughter, Princess Adira.” As she introduced them, the King and the princess smiled at them, doing their best to be welcoming. “May I know what everyone would wish to be called?”

Putting his tea down, Holly brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes, evidently ignorant to just how  _ lewd _ that was. Ahren nearly choked. “I’m Hollyhock Kenning, ‘Hollyhock’ or ‘Holly’ is just fine. Oh—should I repeat that in sign?”

‘Thank you for your courtesy, but there is no need.’ There was amusement in the King’s face, so much more expressive than his wife.

The attention turned to Aidia, who cleared her throat, straightening just a bit more. “I am Aidia Daibrou, my Lord and Lady.”

“A pleasure, Sair Daibrou.” The Queen sipped her tea placidly.

An infectious comfort spread from Hollyhock, people easily relaxing around him. Even Aidia let a small smile grace her face, her first forays into a cautious, precarious ease. Marsh’s leg rested squarely against Holly’s, a simple contact that spoke paragraphs between the two of them. Hesitantly, Ahren let his knee press back against where Aidia had attempted to support him, imitating his companions as best he could.

The attendant that had left returned quietly as Holly struck up a conversation with the princess like it was nothing at all, complimenting her hair and asking more about things to do in the city. Her answers were quiet and polite, but there was an eagerness to her words, like no one had asked for her opinions in a long while. The King chimed in on occasion, signs neat and clear, explaining what else there was. Evidently, he was rather familiar with the various museums in the city, several of which were free for the public. Ahren remembered something about that, how the current Elven Queen was a great fan of institutions of learning.

As the attendant whispered in the Queen’s ear, Marsh had already started up a story about one of their more interesting cases, retelling how they once trekked through miles of wilderness to help a woman deliver her child during a flash flood. They were a good storyteller, engaging and surprisingly personable. The tale was filled with drama and humor, enough that even Ahren found himself being sucked in.

They rounded it out with assurances that everyone had been alright in the end, that they had all eaten a good soup as the baby took in her first few hours of life, and the Queen cleared her throat politely, the princess and the King commenting about how interesting the story was, how happy they were to have a medical practitioner at the table. It seemed that most doctors were not fans of telling tales.

“Though I regret to cut this meeting short, there are pressing matters that need attending to.” There was a faint trace of remorse in the Queen’s tone. “Your rooms have been prepared. In regard to mealtimes, a steward will retrieve you for breakfasts, lunches, and dinners. I am sure you will all receive schedules posthaste. There are also many guards, should you lose your way; the palace can be a challenge to navigate at first.”

Standing, Ahren bowed deeply, praying that he hadn’t committed some drastic slight. “Thank you, Your H—my Queen.”

Aidia copied him flawlessly, saying her own thanks, as Marsh and Holly did their own clumsy bows, doing their best to say all the nice, polite words. The Elven Queen merely inclined her head, her husband giving them a cheerful smile. The princess, though, kept her face stern, schooling her features like her mother. At least one person in the royal family liked them.

The steward approached them, bowing to the royal family respectfully before moving to lead Ahren and his companions through the halls. Marsh’s hand found their way into his, Holly and Aidia already connected. As they were led through the winding halls, Ahren tried to put just how inept he must have seemed to the royal family out of his mind. This was not the time for this, not the time for digging into how incompetent he was.

A squeeze on his hand startled him out of his thoughts.

“I have a question.” Marsh said, commanding the attention of their friends. “Why is the princess Humanish when her parents are elves. I’ve lived in the woods for the past forty-eight years, that’s my excuse.”

Aidia’s reply was simple and calm. “She was adopted twelve years ago, and the Queen has been harping on diversity and inclusion since she came into power.”

“Oh, okay, thanks.” Turning their attention back to the labyrinthine halls of the palace, Marsh fell silent.

Aidia, though, chewed on her lip a moment. “Ahren?”

“Yes?”

“You… do know that the proper honorific for royalty is ‘Your Majesty’, right? ‘Your Highness’ is for princes and princesses.”

His silence was all the answer anyone needed. Maker strike him down where he stood, how could he have forgotten something so basic. He should be strung up for his incompetence. Blushing hard, Ahren bowed his head, muttering a thank you to her as she patted his back with her free hand, Holly leaning into his space, trying to comfort. Well, at least no one had pointed it out in the moment. Maybe this was a part of that informality that the royal family seemed to like so much.

They walked for a time, quietly conversing amongst themselves, before the steward stopped at what they asserted was Ahren’s chambers. The door was relatively plain, considering what other parts of the palace had looked like, simple curling carvings inlaid with bronze and gold. As the steward opened it, there was a large room on the other side, decorated in shades of pale red and gold. The windows were open, letting a cool breeze in, tinged with the perfume of flowers from the gardens. An ungodly amount of pillows decorated the bed, far larger than those Ahren had been used to, big enough to fit all of them and—

And they were all going to separate rooms. The thought crushed Ahren more than it should’ve, that he would be alone. It didn’t make sense; this was a good thing—people were supposed to like being alone. Why did it feel like his heart was being torn apart at the thought of not sleeping beside his companions? Surely, after so long, a bit of privacy would be a luxury.

Peeking his head in, Hollyhock whistled. “Wow, this is a nice room. Who’s with Ahren?”

“You have all been afforded your own room.” The steward smiled, hands clasped in front of her.

His smile fell a bit. “We’re splitting up?”

The way he said it made Ahren’s heart shatter into little pieces. He never wanted to hear that note of tentative trepidation in Holly’s voice ever again. He would give anything for it.

“It’s just for now.” Marsh tightened the hand that held Holly’s. “Until we figure something out, right?”

Pressing a kiss to the top of Holly’s head, Aidia sounded a bit cheerful at the prospect of her own room. “It won’t be all that bad, dear. We’re all still in the same place, and we’ll see each other in the morning, why not treat this like a spa night?”

“Yeah.” He remained unconvinced, bumping against Aidia’s side.

Ahren cleared his throat, eyeing the way the sun was beginning to set through the curtains. The sky had begun to turn a faint pink. They would likely be having dinner in an hour or so, and this would be a good time to clean himself, it wouldn’t do to dine in the palace if he was still filthy from his travels; his mother would never let him forget it if he decided to be such an oaf.

Ignoring the way it made his chest ache, Ahren smiled and crossed the threshold. “In that case, I do believe it would be a good idea if I took a bath. I will see you all at dinner.”

Though quickly suppressed, Ahren couldn’t miss the look of distress on Holly’s face. Marsh was easier to read, not bothering to hide their discomfort. They pressed themselves against Holly’s side, hands moving to grip his arm tightly. It… hurt. It hurt to be separated, if only for a few hours. Regret bubbled up in Ahren’s throat as goodbye hugs were initiated, Marsh lingering for just a bit longer than normal, reluctant to let go.

“It’s okay, we’ll know where everyone is.” Aidia soothed, letting her hand rest atop Marsh’s head. “Until dinner, Ahren.”

“Until dinner.”

As they left, Ahren closed the door, taking in his new home. There was an intricately carved wooden dresser that he had missed on his initial summary, complete with a gold-framed mirror. A few grey towels topped it, beside a black night robe. A door opened into the bathroom, warm yellow tiles covering the floor, matched with a darker, deeper shade on the walls. A large bathtub graced the area, along with a sink and a toilet. On the wall, there was an enormous, crystal clear mirror hanging just over the sink.

The silence was stifling. After spending so long traveling with a group, silence had become something like a foreign creature, odd and unexpected. There were no quiet conversations, no absentminded humming, no friendly arguments. Yes, he could exist in states of undress without that quiet voice in his mind telling him what an abhorrent creature he was, but was it worth it?

Shaking those thoughts out of his head, Ahren took a deep breath. It was okay, look at all this privacy he had, this was wonderful! A bath would clear everything up, he would wash himself and get dressed and all would be better. Not very convincingly, Ahren grabbed one of the towels off of the dresser, entering the bathroom to peruse what amenities had been provided for him. Surely, there would be something that he could use with his molt.

The tiles were arcanely warm under his feet, magic likely heating them to a pleasant temperature. On the sill of the bathtub, there were all manner of products, from soaps made for both scales and skin to scale oils. It would be good for him to take care of his body better; Marsh had been worrying about how dry his scales were getting and their book had only confused them more.

Ahren began running a bath, tossing in a few bath oils that he had been informed were good for his scales. Locking the door, he was left with his slowly filling tub and his reflection.

He looked tired. Not, dirty, per se, just tired. There were dark circles under his eyes and traces of dust from the carriage wheels caked on his cheeks where a wash hadn’t been enough to wipe it away. Though his scales gleamed with a new health, they were still a bit clouded, ready to fall off of his body. Ahren had never seen himself like this, entire body visible in pristine glass.

His clothes hung off of him, trying to accommodate someone with far more muscle and mass than him. Despite gaining weight with the trio, Ahren was still gangly, supremely unattractive. He couldn’t even remember where he had gotten the shirt from, likely one of Holly’s that had gotten mixed up with his.

Shrugging off his jacket, Ahren folded it on the sink counter. He stripped out of his clothing mechanically, trying to avoid the way his scales glimmered in the light. The color just made him feel sick, a testament to how much of a disappointment he was. Sparing a glance at the tub, he found it halfway full. His smallclothes joined the pile, the laundress would think to burn these clothes before washing them.

And, just like that, he was left with himself. A young dragon peered at him through the glass, bits and bobs of nearly shed scales hanging off of his skin, stomach and chest discolored into a pale spring green. He looked… small. New muscle ran along his limbs, the beginnings of fat beginning to cover his ribs, though it did nothing to hide his form. It was garish,  _ he _ was garish. One day, Holly and Marsh were going to realize just how malformed he was, how abhorrent he was. Ahren didn’t deserve them, didn’t deserve to be at the palace. He should be groveling at the Elven Queen’s feet for a chance to live, for the chance to become something.

What his companions saw in him, he didn’t know. Ahren would pick up his medications in the mornings, no matter what Marsh said, and all would go back to normal. He would be marginally better, a slightly capable thing, ready to serve the Queen and please his companions. They wouldn’t have to suffer through him, to deal with all his failings. It would be okay.

Tearing his eyes away from the disappointment in the reflection, Ahren turned off the water and stepped into the tub. The water was intoxicatingly warm, almost as nice as the hot springs. A sigh slipped out of his mouth as his eyes slid closed. This was bliss. As the season turned, a deep chill had made its home in Ahren’s bones, the specter of frost dancing at the edges of his vision.

He let himself sink lower, the water coming up to the underside of his jaw. Even now, the quiet stalked him. There was only the sound of water splashing in time with his movements to keep him company, the solitude seeping into every available surface. Partially unfolding his wings, Ahren let himself take solace in the privacy, pushing down how a primal part of his brain craved to leave and find his companions, regardless of what they were doing.

There was a scale scrub, that was a nice distraction. It was made of little pink cubes, almost like sugar, packaged in a small glass bottle. A good, hard scrubbing would lessen the effects of his shed and get some of the dirt off, at the very least, it would make it a bit easier to sit in his own skin for a moment longer. Measuring out a nice amount into his palm, Ahren got started on his right arm.

It was such a pleasant feeling, dead scales being abraded off under his ministrations, revealing the new skin underneath. That subtle, all-encompassing itching he had been ignoring for days faded into the relief of clean scales, free from the grime of his journey. He moved down his arm in this manner, enjoying the sweet, natural fragrance of the hot water around him, feeling warmth leech back into his body. As he scrubbed at his fingers, though, Ahren felt something… odd. Glancing down, his blood ran cold.

The scales underneath were different. Not different in the way that molts were supposed to be, but very different. He didn’t even know if they could be  _ called _ scales. They were closer to skin, an olive shade, somewhere between Holly and Marsh, though that wasn’t saying much. On his hand, there were patches of this skin where the scales had been scraped off, new and slightly pink.

Ah, so Ahren was dying. This was what dying felt like. Ahren, at the ripe old age of 336, was going to die here, in the Elven capital, not even surrounded by the only people he could ever really call his friends. Lovely. This was wonderful.

With shaking hands, he set aside the scale scrub in favor of a normal soap, cleaning himself with a thoroughness brought about by fear and a desire to not do it wrong. The panic coursing through his veins had turned him numb, as if anticipating a punishment from his mother. It was fine. He was going to talk to Marsh and to the royal physician, and everything was going to be just fine. Oh sweet and merciful Maker, Ahren was dying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks, i have a tumblr! https://madrastique.tumblr.com/  
> liked the story? leave a comment
> 
> Fun Fact!!! We have related works!!  
> [ Scales Don't Work Well With Lace by Awkward_Dragon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24123841)


	35. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lets take a look at that from another set of eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the last chap, folks! i hope yall liked book 1! a lil heads up: i'm going to have an ~1 month (1-1.5) hiatus before starting on book 2, bu don't worry: starting this sun, i'm going to post 14 new scenes i did for a friend's prompt. its been so much fun reading comments and writing aco!! <3!!
> 
> Chapter Warnings:  
> Implied/Referenced Child Abuse Time

The diplomat from the Seven Peaks had finally arrived. Malaidor allowed herself to take a breath. That was one less thing to worry about, whether or not the Seven Peaks were going to join Galailan for negotiations. At least they weren’t about to declare independence and revolt against them all. That particular nightmare wouldn’t be coming to fruition yet.

They had sent someone young, very young. Her cabinet had been torn between thinking it was a slight or an extension of trust. 336 was hardly an adult dragon, mature, but still not allowed to marry. Maybe this was to gain more experience in negotiations, to better foster a culture of trust and cooperation between the autonomous territory and the kingdom it belonged to.

And then, they had sent over a report of the medications he was taking and Malaidor’s blood had run cold. He was on hormone blockers—not the ones that were used for dragons transitioning genders or delaying the onset of puberty, no. These were powerful ones used to halt the development of arcana within dragons, usually used on those that had powers far beyond their control that posed significant threat to themselves or others.

The list didn’t stop there, though. He was also taking mood stabilizers, presumably to mitigate the confusion and emotional fluctuations caused by stripping out an entire sense, an intrinsic ability out of his body. It was horrifying, that this youth was being given these medications without reason. His medical forms had listed that he had no arcane ability, though who would, after this.

Onwards, onto the stimulants. Malaidor was familiar with these, the same formula that her father had used. They were addictive, stopping suddenly would result in a significant and dangerous withdrawal period, lasting anywhere from six to twelve weeks. There was nothing in the dragon’s records to require such a medication, the forms not even explaining where they had been prescribed or for what cause.

For the gods’ sakes, there was no reason in the medical records that a dragon this young would be on so many medications at the same time, especially not with the side effects that these had. How had he even survived on the road this long? This journey was meant to have taken him half of the time it did, where had he gotten the extra medication from?

He was due to arrive any moment now—he had already sent for a carriage for his entourage and himself. While the original summons had not mentioned an entourage, it was common for younger dragons to pick up people along the way. It was always interesting to see the kinds of people diplomats tended to fall in with, the ones from Eragah tended to return with more pets than when they started rather consistently. Even still, Malaidor waited for word from the guards. He was to enter soon, with any luck.

Beside her, her husband sat, adding an inordinate amount of sugar into his tea. Gods only knew why he could stand it so sweet. At his right, their daughter was working on her own light lunch. They had all taken an early tea, so as not to be rude enough to eat an actual meal in the delegation’s presence. That is to say, they didn’t have to be dignified right now. The royal personas of Queen Malaidor, King Galengar, and Princess Adira happened when their guests walked through the door, not when they were having a quick meal with their personal guards.

Adira waves a hand to get her family’s attention, not bothering to stop eating as she signed one-handed. ‘Do you think all of them are dragons?’

‘No.’ Wiping his face with a napkin, Galengar started on his cooling tea. ‘Not that many dragons travelling on foot to us, and we’d have been informed.’

‘Probably.’ Malaidor supplied, finishing up her own scone.

Adira’s mouth quirked to the side as she swallowed, taking another sandwich from the tray. ‘Fae exist.’

‘They do indeed—do you want this?’ Galengar interrupted himself to hand Malaidor a sandwich, one that she graciously accepted. ‘I missed you at breakfast.’

A raised eyebrow met his challenge. ‘And I you at dinner. Adira and I had such stimulating conversation.’

‘I can only imagine.’ He grinned at her, all charm.

Before Malaidor could think of a sufficient response, a servant entered, head bowed respectfully. “Your Majesties, Your Highness, the carriage has arrived. Shall I send word to bring the delegation here?”

Clearing her throat, Malaidor swallowed and spoke aloud. This was a new hire, she likely didn’t know sign all that well. “Yes, please do. May we have the table cleared and re-set?”

“Of course.” Lyla, that was her name, Lyla Smokeheart. Malaidor remembered seeing her on the staff roster for today.

As the woman left, the table was cleared, the plain white tablecloth switched out for a heavily decorated light blue one. Why, Malaidor couldn’t reconcile. It was only going to get dirty. An ivy motif had been embroidered along its scalloped lace edge, looking flawlessly elegant. The teacups were replaced too, more decorative things glazed in light yellow with a pale blue interior, quickly filled with a fresh pot of violet tea. At the bottom of the pot, there sat a lemon wedge, brightening the color of the tea to a rich purple.

Perfect scones and sandwiches were placed into artisanal holders. Silver, of course—it wouldn’t do if the delegation had fae in it, best to be as accommodating as possible. The chairs were pushed in and the table set for an extra four settings, everything was in order. It was like they were expecting the Thornling, from the way the staff worked in utter silence.

Watching with deceptively lax eyes, Galengar’s personal guard leaned in, pilfering an extra scone for himself. “Am I speaking for you today, Sir?”

The question was spoken to her husband, easy enough that the staff would forget to hear it. Hastion was a good guard like that. Sparing a glance at him, Malaidor could understand what her husband saw in him. Though he was average by Elven standards, he was tall and strong, ash-brown skin healthy and clear. Short, dark hair framed his face nicely, the efforts of the royal stylists. Charcoal-grey eyes glittered as he ate, watching Galengar speak with a fluency that had been hard fought.

‘No but thank you. Mor and I agreed that I won’t have to speak today.’ Galengar punctuated the thought by brushing a stray lock of hair out of Hastion’s eyes. ‘It isn’t all that important, so I was thinking of just watching.’

“Doesn’t sound like much excitement.” He mumbled around a mouthful of pastry, long since comfortable around the royal family.

A chuckle made its way out of Adira. It was funny, how much a part of their family he was. It was a shame that Malaidor had never been able to keep a guard so regularly, the lack of concrete emotional expression being a bit of a downside to working with her. Her family seemed to manage it just fine, though, and her therapist claimed that she was making progress, despite how much it felt like she was stagnating.

“I  _ hope _ it’s not exciting.” Adira was saying, a pleasant smile on her face. “If it’s exciting it means you have to do your job!”

He raised an eyebrow at her, stopping his hand just before going to ruffle her hair. “I shall cleave the problem in twain with my big sword, and all will be well. And then, Kadria over there,” he jerked his head at Malaidor’s personal guard, a human woman standing sternly in the corner, “will take out the biggest gun and shoot the problem dead.”

It made Malaidor happy, the way he joked around with them like they were normal. It was refreshing, really. Though she had been raised to be heir, it was good to be treated like a person and not the queen, someone that could take a joke. Hastion had been a wonderful choice, especially for helping everyone hang onto their sanity as one problem arose after the other. At this point, he was as much a part of Adira’s life as her parents. He was family, simple as that.

The moment, however, could not last. When could they ever? A servant heralded the arrival of the delegation, Hastion finished his muffin as the King brushed crumbs from his guard’s face and pressed a kiss to his cheek before going to his position on the wall. Straightening, Adira adopted a similar position to Malaidor, back like a ramrod and posture impeccable.

Just in time, it seemed, as there was a knock at the door not five minutes later. Clothing was adjusted in the thirty seconds they had. Adira smoothed down the front of her dress, ensuring that there were neither stains nor crumbs. Malaidor’s husband checked over her quickly, hands up as he prepared himself to sign if need be. This was such a routine dance, rehearsed and practiced into perfection. They were the royal family, after all; who could expect any less from them?

The door swung open right on cue, one of the guards entering, followed by four people. Malaidor had to hold in a gasp, well and truly, when her eyes took in the dragon diplomat. That was not what dragons looked like. That was what dragons given hormone and arcana blockers of an improper dose at too young an age looked like—their forms destabilized into something approximating a combination. Could he even shift into his Draconic form, or was this the only skin he knew?

Besides that, he was small, incredibly small. Moonraker dragons were meant to be stocky, to gain muscle quickly. It would have shown, even on their humanoid forms. No, this was a gangly thing, his growth stunted and clothes hanging off of his form. It looked like a stiff breeze could blow him over, with how he was constructed. In that moment, it was decided that the palace would not, in fact, be releasing his medications to him without a thorough medical exam. Gods and men and those in between, how had he not keeled over on this journey?

His companions appeared to be in better shape, at the very least. There was a pale, black-haired half-elf, looking around with an almost bored look in his eyes. A bass guitar hung off of his back, form relatively obscured by his thick jacket. An eyepatch covered one eye and there were healing cuts on his face, though they didn’t seem to bother him much at all.

Beside him, there was a half-orc woman. Malaidor had to admit, she was Adira’s type, carrying herself with a dignified, noble grace. Her Elven heritage was plain to see, light blonde hair cropped short and pale eyes, sclerae and all. A leather breastplate covered a sunny yellow blouse and dark green slacks, a sheathed shortsword strapped to her side. Nothing that Hastion or Kadria couldn’t handle, though. Malaidor strongly doubted that she had obtained proper weapons training, judging from the way she took in the room, eyes glossing over possible entrances and exits.

On the other side of the diplomat, stood a short Humanish person. Something about them seemed horrendously familiar, like an itch that Malaidor couldn’t quite scratch. Their eyes were metallic, glinting gold against bronze skin. Coppery hair had been swept back into a low bun, though a few wispy strands had since fallen out. They filled out their comfortable clothes, eyes flicking from person to person, scanning the room and wincing at the windows.

His companions stopped when the dragon stopped, the half-elf and the Humanish watching the other two for instructions as to what to do. As the dragon and the half-orc bowed deeply, they did the same, if shallower and more clumsily. Not that anyone minded, if anything, Malaidor missed the informality of travelling.

It was the dragon that spoke. “Your Majesties.” His voice was so high, a tenor. A dragon his age should not have been speaking with a tenor voice.

Malaidor nodded, blessedly certain that there would be no hint of shock on her face. In her hands? That was Galengar’s business and Galengar’s alone. Instead of shock, she forced a tone of cordial neutrality. It would be easier to keep up than much anything, her tutors had seen to that. What was she, if not pleased to see the delegation, after all.

“Child of Jara and Hzsii,” there was the divine right to rule in her voice, intonation sculpted to sound like a god’s, “we have been expecting you. Please, dine with us.” The sun was going to set in a couple of hours anyway, they could consider it a late lunch.

Leading his companions, the dragon, Ahren, his name was, took a seat. The half-orc crossed her legs primly while the half-elf let his hands rest in his lap, the Humanish not hesitating to slouch at the table, running their hands over the tablecloth, enjoying the feeling of the fabric. They all looked so young, dwarfed by the overstuffed chairs and antiquity of the hall. This section of the palace had likely stood before their family line had existed, all of them.

As they made conversation, Malaidor took note of her new dining companions. Adira and the half-orc exchanged a glance. Ah, it seemed that her hunch had been right. Malaidor could plan for a night two or so weeks from now when her daughter came to her chambers to explain just how beautiful the half-orc was and how much she wanted to court her. At least Adira would be willing to split the snacks.

Ahren, an interesting name, the thought came to her, unbidden. It would have been one of the first, had it existed in the first place. Haren was a name, yes, as was Aheron, but “Ahren”? It was not a name in and of itself. It wasn’t even a word, it was a meaningless collection of syllables. Dragons did not name their children like that. Odd.

Even odder was that the Seven Peaks had sent such a young dragon, hardly out of puberty, to her. From what information Malaidor had, the Hzsii clan was a powerful force in the area, the go-to family that people went to for protection and tithes. It was… not the best sign, all things considered. A lesser ruler would have considered this a slight, declaring war in a heartbeat over something so trivial. Malaidor was not going to ruin relations that she had taken so long to restore over something as simple as the appearance of the diplomat.

A chill ran through her veins. What if that  _ was _ the intention, war and discord to break out. He clearly wasn’t trained, not from the way he would occasionally refer to the royal couple as “Your Highnesses” as they spoke, making polite small talk. Surely, someone schooled in the diplomacy of Galailan would know that the proper address for the royal couple would be “Your Majesties”, but Malaidor wasn’t going to harp on that. There were more important things to be done than police tone.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Adira shift her eyes from the half-orc, who she had been having an entire conversation out of glances and posture with, to the half-elf, the curiosity stained into his features. As she smiled at him, his face bloomed into all things warm and joyous, so easily showing his happiness.

Adira cast her gaze down demurely, trying to hide the smile on her face as the Humanish person gleefully took a sandwich for themselves, only listening to the conversation with one ear. They looked rather hungry, like they hadn’t stopped for lunch on the way. Malaidor would call them a dinner, in that case. Better to have overfull guests than hungry. They all looked hungry, in their own ways, travel weary and ready to stay in one place for a little while. She could understand the feeling.

It was the half-orc, Aidia, that caught Malaidor’s attention, though. She watched the exchange between the princess and her companion with the eyes of a hawk, attending to the conversation between Malaidor and Sair Ahren like she could polish coins from carefully spoken words. It had been a while since the Queen had been put under such close scrutiny. She was going to have to keep an eye on that woman. Idle hands and shifting sands.

Grey eyes glinted with knowledge she was doing her best to keep hidden, her fluency with courtly manners one, with Higherspeak the other. Galengar was going to have a field day with her. It wasn’t often that a challenger came to court, at least, not to the royal family. Under the table, the Humanish person pressed their leg to hers, comforted by the proximity, and she rested her knee against the dragon’s, as if claiming them in no uncertain terms. Well, who was Malaidor to separate them, especially with how clearly attached they were.

Shifting to the language of the people, Malaidor directed the focus of the conversation to Sair Ahren’s medication. The Humanish lit up—ah, so they  _ were _ the medic of the group. A brief interrogation later, paperwork was being sent up to their room, everyone’s chambers being prepared for when they elected to retire to them. For her part, Malaidor sipped her tea, a bastion of calmness as horror ripped through her.

According to the dragon, he had run out of his medication. He, who was so worried about potentially slighting her that he looked fit to lose what little he had eaten should she be anything but placid, had run out of his medication. How he was even alive, let alone in what was likely better mental and physical shape than he had been his entire life, astounded Malaidor.

That settled it, then. The medication had been unnecessary. The Humanish person only confirmed it, that Sair Ahren was perfectly healthy, with no issue that warranted such a powerful cocktail. It was a miracle that the drugs hadn’t left too many lasting effects, most of them reversible. Even that the withdrawal had been, ultimately, tolerable was a shock. Most needed hospital treatment, if done too suddenly, there was a serious risk of death. How this dragon’s family had played with his life was intolerable. Absolutely intolerable.

Taking another sip of her tea, trying desperately to hide her shaking hands, Malaidor refocused herself. Galengar and Adira could hear the stress in her tone, see the tremble in her bones. Her family could always read her like an open book. A hand rested on the armrest of Malaidor’s chair, inside her personal space, a gesture meant to soothe.

She accepted it, trying to walk the fine line between meddling and helpfully concerned, dropping enough hints that, as the medic picked up on it, brows drew close in confused frustration. It was endearing how much they all cared for each other, the half-elf attending to the conversation more than he was trying to befriend her daughter. At least Sair Ahren was going to get looked at by someone who knew what they were doing—the palace was used to the particulars of Draconic illness.

“How do you not know what your medications do?” Mallowmarsh’s face had twisted up in shock and rage, ready to tear Sair Ahren’s old doctor into another plane. “How long have you been taking them?”

There was a confused blink on the part of the dragon, as if he didn’t know why Mallowmarsh was so angry. “As long as I can remember?”

Everyone around him took a deep breath as their souls returned to themselves. There was horror on Adira’s face, artfully hidden, her hand holding onto the handle of her knife concealed in her waistband. Galengar’s hand tightened on his wife’s armrest, fingers twitching in unsigned words. Malaidor herself let her spine straighten, taking refuge in posture and the hundreds of rules she had learned as a child. The tulle and lace of her skirts were digging into her palms, destined to leave angry marks if she pressed in deeper.

Even so, the conversation shifted after help was offered and accepted, proper introductions made. Aidia, the half-orc, seemed to distrust her, what with the puzzled, anticipatory look she shot her queen after Malaidor insisted on informality. It was just such a hassle, following the laws of the court to the letter. People felt more comfortable when first names were exchanged, when the queen let herself be made a person in their eyes, rather than a position of power with an elf attached.

Aidia’s companions relaxed, easy smiles returning. Malaidor tried to match them, but it felt fake on her face, the motions unfamiliar and scripted. She let it drop as Galengar tapped her armrest quietly, signing ‘disconcerting’ under the table. Right. Maybe he could help her practice some more. Better  _ a _ smile over nothing at all.

Noticing the way her dining compatriots signed under the table to each other, asking for this or that, thanking each other quietly so as not to disturb the conversation, her heart surged. Maybe her husband could have someone to talk to, finally. Tilting her head, doing her best to portray polite inquisitiveness, Malaidor felt a swell of pride in her chest. She was on a roll with her visual displays of emotion.

“Do you all sign?” She ignored the way the dragon fidgeted, claws running over green scales in an attempt to calm himself down.

The response was positive, Galengar extending his welcome before the conversation shifted again, introductions continuing. It was quite sweet how the half-elf—Hollyhock, Malaidor reminded herself—offered to sign, unsure whether or not it would help make this conversation more accessible to her husband. Not many people in the court had elected to learn sign, preferring to speak to Galengar through his guard, forgetting that he could hear them just fine. His muteness was not a result of deafness, after all. Kindness was such a rare commodity in times like these.

Malaidor’s mind couldn’t help but flash through those who had already arrived for the peace talks, a motley assortment of dragons from all over this half of the continent. Old friends and young diplomats mingled; the more distant ones hesitant to trust in Malaidor to properly unite their territory, while the ones that had already been grown upon Malaidor’s birth trusting her to lead the nation. Ezkei was a powerful ally to have in her corner.

It was an exhausting chorus of millennia old arguments butting heads with new squabbles and ideas, a string of thoughts and interactions so twisted that it became a ball. It was good to see, people actually voicing their opinions rather than going with whatever the highest-ranking member said, especially the youths. Hope, that’s what the talks reminded Malaidor of, hope.

As Adira’s eyes softened over her tea, drawing Hollyhock into a conversation about their journey, Malaidor felt her heart go all squiggly. The tapping of Galengar’s fingers against her chair was soothing, grounding. He reminded her of the world outside her mind, and where would she be without him. They were stuck in this shit together, on the front line of history once again. The stakes were so much higher, but so much lower. They were alive, they didn’t have to fear being discovered, and they were together. For that, Malaidor could breathe without a knot of worry constricting her chest.

In front of them, Hollyhock’s face had split into one of the most infectious grins Malaidor had ever seen. She half expected to break into a smile just from bearing witness to it, but settled into easing stress out of her form, shoulders lowering imperceptibly as she came back to the present. Sair Ahren had leaned his leg back against Aidia’s, taking refuge in her proximity. Oh. It wouldn’t be a good idea to separate the four of them.

A servant passed into the room, quietly leaning over to speak into the royal couple’s ear. She bore news that the rooms had been prepared for their guests, and that they were ready to see to them, if this teatime was finished. The four of them likely wanted a bath, what with all of the travelling they had been doing recently.

Malaidor cleared her throat, summoning the attention of everyone. “You have all been given rooms,” her voice was smooth and sonorous, a perfect queen, “and, in regards to dining, you will be summoned to meals. Expect schedules to arrive by tonight.”

There were many thanks as one of the servants stood, ready to lead them out. Ahren leapt to his feet, bowing as deeply as he possibly could. To be quite truthful, Malaidor was worried he was about to hit his head on the table. His companions imitated him, also bowing, though it looked as though Marsh—not Mallowmarsh, they had corrected her—and Hollyhock were simply imitating Ahren, while Aidia gave the queen a surprisingly hard stare, hidden under a polite smile. Hopefully, she wouldn’t become an insistent thorn in Malaidor’s side; there was enough to deal with as there was.

Nodding at the servant, she led the delegation out, the four of them clumped together like they were afraid one would wander off if they weren’t in a hand’s reach from each other at all times. It sent a pang through Malaidor’s heart, how quickly these people sought each other’s connection in a new place, as if it were nothing at all.

New tears to old cracks lined her heart, old scars aching. It was so unlike what she had experienced with the twins, with Mercy. Galengar and Monkshood had been her refuge during those hard nights, when everything was so much, too much. Emotions and longing had been wrapped up so tight in Malaidor’s core, ready to burst at the seams. All of her sorrow didn’t fit in her chest, she realized as a single drop of something small and wet fell onto her napkin, water absorbing into the fabric.

Why should the world care about the logic and wishes of queens, sitting with everything they could ever want in the palms of their hands. How could the sun still shine down, knowing what it did of the world, knowing that millennia upon millennia, life upon life had been torn down to little scraps under its watchful gaze, burned to fuel the fires of progress and history. There was always more to be done, a war to be won. At least Malaidor could hope that she had sustained the least casualties.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her husband’s hand tighten against her armrest, trying to do what little he could to comfort her, setting his teeth against the upwelling of grief in his chest. Malaidor took a deep breath and steadied her breathing, letting her gloved hand rest lightly atop Galengar’s, tamping down the screaming inside her mind, the slippery slope that would bring unwanted memories to her mind. He needed this more than it hurt her, and Malaidor was not going to deny him his needs. She would rather burn.

Adira’s gaze politely fixed on her tea and scones, letting her parents grieve for something they never told her about, something they never spoke of. The last thing Malaidor wanted was to tell her daughter. It was not a story meant for children and speaking it into the world would do nothing but invite discord into their house.

She cleared her throat, excusing herself with a curtsey and two blown kisses, claiming to want to give her parents some privacy. Adjusting her dress, there was no doubt in Malaidor’s mind that Adira was going to change into something more easily to move in, ready to go do something very un-princesslike, such as head to the stables and ride hellhounds through the woods until the sun was setting, or practice her survival skills. Or archery. Adira was getting very into archery. Maybe, once there was a moment to think, they could go camping as a family again. The three of them hadn’t done that in a few months, now.

When she spoke, Malaidor’s words were quiet, artificially steady. “My apologies.”

Her husband’s shoulders raised in silent laughter. ‘Don’t be.’ He carefully, slowly tilted his hand up, giving Malaidor plenty of warning and time to get away before their fingers laced together. ‘You don’t need to hurt yourself for me.’

She squeezed his hand slightly, Malaidor tuning out the images flashing behind her eyes. Rulers coming down on the backs of hands; arcane pain digging into her bones like fire and lightning as she was embraced; electricity dancing across skin, leaving burns as skin brushed against skin. She was not a child anymore. Malaidor was a fully-grown woman, able to take her love into her own hands.

“Please, I am not hurting myself.” Her voice was calm, reassuring. “I simply wanted to comfort you. You are my closest friend, and I care for you.”

Tentatively, as if he were afraid of breaking her, Galengar squeezed her hand back. ‘Are you trying exposure therapy again?’

“My therapist thought it might be a good idea, considering the benefits I have seen in the past.” It was an overly clinical quote, but what did it matter.

‘Would you like help?’ Last time had not been the prettiest thing in the world.

A dry humor wove its way into Malaidor’s voice as she picked up her clean napkin, carefully dabbing at an unshed tear in Galengar’s eye, making sure not to smear his makeup. “Well, I certainly couldn’t do it all by my lonesome.”

‘How could I deny you?’ Galengar’s face held that smile Malaidor loved to see. ‘Mor, you’re more than allowed to hold my hand sometimes if you want to. You can even do something scandalous as to ask me for a hug.’

The quietest chuckle dropped out of her mouth, making that lovely smile spread wider. “Thank you for marrying me.”

‘Thank you for asking.’ His retort was simple.

Yes, her world was slowly crumbling around her and taking its sweet time in doing so—there was a plane intersecting, inch by inch, into hers, whose ruler was a paranoid madman unwilling to even speak with Idran to save them both, but at least Malaidor was still alive, still able to take a breath.

She would not be letting the Thornling take her home, her people. He would have to claw that out of her cold, dead hands. The Thornling was a monster, but Malaidor had always been good at hunting those. Despite what he had done to the Sindil dynasty in the Solaq, despite the measures he had put in place, Idran was going to withstand—Galailan was going to withstand. Malaidor was going to be bleeding out on the ground before that  _ creature _ wore her crown on his head.

Distantly, Malaidor’s mind ran through the math. How long had it been since the Sindil dynasty went into hiding, how long had it been since she had received the letter? The number was automatic. Forty-eight years, seven months, six weeks. The letter was received two months ago, one week, three days. Too long. It was always too long.

“We’re going to have to send another team into the Solaq soon.” There was a note of worry in her voice. The last team had never reported back. “Neither the Ruin nor the Refugee Courts are going to give us a person.”

Galengar shook his head. ‘It’s too soon; we need more time, more information.’

“We don’t have that.” It was simple, they needed more. They always needed more.

‘Mor—’

“Gal, we  _ need _ to send help, in the season.”

He sighed silently, shoulders sagging. ‘We don’t have enough people to monitor the rips we’ve found already, what you’re proposing will set us back so far. Wait until the summer, the Solaq will be in their winter, do you think the Thornling’s been keeping stores?’

“People will die.” If the Solaq didn’t have enough stores in the cities, never mind the towns, then there would be mass famine during the century of winter. “Galengar we  _ can’t _ .”

‘I know, but there isn’t a solution. It’s either send more of our people to the war machine or let fae feel the brunt of winter.’ He broke off his words to run his hand along the braids in his hair. ‘The Courts will  _ not _ support us, so it would be our people. They would be caught instantly.’

A beat of silence passed between them, Malaidor’s expression hard and determined.

‘Fine. I’ll look and ask around, okay?’ Her husband acquiesced, quickly enough that it had been what he was going to do anyway.

“Thank you.” It was almost a whisper, just for Galengar to hear. “Thank you.”

Gods and men, did Malaidor love her family. She had never thought twice about marrying her husband, their relationship not a romantic one, but one of platonic affection and trust. He would have her back, no matter what. Sure, it had been an odd day when Malaidor had brought a seven-year-old that had just tried to assassinate her to him to ask if they could adopt her, but he loved their daughter like she was their own and Adira knew it.

Malaidor would give everything to see her happy. If this delegation broke her heart, Malaidor would be the one to personally kill them. Or, at least, what was left of them after Adira and Galengar got to them. No one broke Adira’s heart and lived to tell the tale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks, i have a tumblr! https://madrastique.tumblr.com/  
> liked the story? [leave a tip!](https://ko-fi.com/madlysacrosanct)
> 
> We have related works!! (if you write one, dm me! i'll add it to the footnotes no prob)  
> [ Scales Don't Work Well With Lace by Awkward_Dragon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24123841)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Scales Don't Work Well With Lace](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24123841) by [Awkward_Dragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awkward_Dragon/pseuds/Awkward_Dragon)




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